Txakoli en Estados Unidos - Txakoli in USA

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Five years ago, only wine geeks ordered Txakoli. Casual wine drinkers had discovered Spanish wines, but few dared the daunting Basque word (CHA-koh-lee) naming this simple white wine from the green hills of Spain's Atlantic coast.
Those who tried it fell for the little spray of bubbles in the glass, the green apple tartness and the rush of stony minerality. It was the wine of choice for oysters and seafood dishes, and an order sent an "I like unusual wines" signal to the few sommeliers who stocked it.
These days Txakoli is a trendy drink. It hasn't ousted Chardonnay from wine lists, but it has dredged a tributary off the mainstream. Its price has risen with its star: A bottle costs $16 at a store, but a single glass goes for $10 at San Francisco's Bar Crudo and $11 at Bar Americain in New York.
The Txakoli landscape changed as interest grew. In the past, you found just one bottle in the United States: Txomin Etxaniz, imported by Jorge Ordoñez.
"Now there are at least seven producers in the market vying for the same consumer," says Adam Rieger, the wine buyer for Bar Americain, who sold 500 bottles between May and September of 2006 and 240 as of late June. You even see formerly rare Txakoli rosés and reds, made with Hondarribi Beltza grapes. White Txakoli relies instead on the Hondarribi Zuri and Folle Blanche vines that blanket the three Txakoli regions - the main Getariako Txakolina near the Pyrenees, the large Bizkaiko Txakolina around Bilbao, and the newly created Arabako Txakolina inland from Bizkaiko.
Grape growers in the coastal Txakolina regions face tough weather. The sweeping Atlantic rain pours almost 5 feet of water on the ground each year and keeps temperatures low even in the summer. Winemakers preserve the freshness of the fruit with cool fermentation in stainless steel and bottle it before the residual carbonation in the wine escapes, leaving the slight spritz that has caught so many eyes.
"There's a tipping point, when a wine crosses out of geekdom and into the real world," says Kevin Callaghan, wine buyer for Acme Restaurant in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. "We've moved beyond that with Txakoli; it sells itself."
Showing off for a restaurant's staff still contributes to the wine's appeal, and sommeliers push its food-friendly profile - Chez Panisse's wine director, Jonathan Waters (no relation to Alice Waters), says, "It has a lovely racy acidity coupled with a burst of sweetness like 7Up. It's a very seductive combination, especially with all that carbon dioxide." But if sommeliers alone could put a wine on the charts, we'd all be drinking Riesling, Gruner Veltliner and Cru Beaujolais.
Tipping points rarely have a single cause, but it's hard to ignore Txakoli's presentation and its effect on other diners. Waiters at tapas restaurants in San Sebastian, the heart of Txakoli country, start pouring the wine near the glass and then pull the two apart, finishing the pour with a two-foot stream from the bottle into the glass. The effect increases the bubbles in the wine, as does the special pourer the waiters use.
"When you just pour it into a glass," says Rieger, "it's not the experience you want. Even pouring it from high up isn't enough. You want the aeration a real pourer gives you." He tracked down the special pourers, which look like tiny cake stands as they perch on the bottle.
"It's really changed the experience," he says. "The wine is so much more lively and energetic."
Importers hem and haw about just how traditional the high pour is - outside of Rieger's staff, few American waiters pour it that way - but no one doubts that the flashy show captivates customers. "Because of the pouring technique, everyone is going to ask about it," he says. "At our service bar, I encourage them to pour it from high up. If we serve it tableside, we pour it from high up."
Even those who have never seen the high pour got a taste of it in the 2005 Saveur 100, an end-of-year montage of the magazine staff's picks. The full-page picture of a waiter pouring a silver stream of Txakoli created a noticeable spike in sales. "There's a certain type of customer who needs that push," says Acme's Callaghan. "And when they see it on a menu, they say, 'Oh, right, I read about that.' "
Jorge Ordoñez brought Txakoli to America, but these days most wine buyers go to Andre Tamers, the owner of De Maison Selections. "I tasted it here first, and then in Spain, but I brought in the most," he says.
"I became the world's largest importer of Txakoli." Tamers brought in 4,000 cases this year, up from 2,500 cases last year. "We keep running out," he says. He pushes it hard, getting it into more restaurants and bringing more bottles into the country. Tamers' persuasive sales efforts are a key part of Txakoli's current fame.
Spain seems willing to supply our demand. The Oxford Companion to Wine estimates that 500 acres of vines dot the three Txakolina regions, but Tamers sees growth on the horizon as the government and investors pour money from on high down into the area's farmland. "Txakoli has a political element, and many see this investment as a vindication of Basque culture," he says.
While Rieger thinks the Txakoli fan club is cooling down a bit, there's no danger of the wine sneaking back into the geeky corners of obscurity. Spanish wines have captured America - especially this bubbly little wine.
"In my career, there's been a slow movement toward an understanding that a major aspect of wine is fun," says Rieger. "It's not something to be snobbish about, just something to be enjoyed. Txakoli has that fun aspect."
A taste of Txakoli
As a rule, Txakoli is a simple, refreshing wine. Expect something pleasant but not complex. Many wine stores and restaurants now have at least one Txakoli, usually a white. The whites work well as an opening wine, while the red is better suited to mushroomy meat dishes. You can't buy the special pourers that aerate the wine and enhance the bubbles in the United States, but you can make your own version by pulling the cork, slicing a narrow wedge along its length and then pushing it back into the bottle. (If your bottle comes with a foam or silicone cork, use the real cork from another wine bottle.)
2006 Ameztoi Rubentis Getariako Txakolina ($16) This bubble-gum pink rosé smells of delicate strawberries, baked rhubarb and burnt sugar, but it has a creamy taste of green apples.
2006 Arabako Txakolina Xarmant Arabako Txakolina ($14) Honey drops on green apples and wet stones make for an appealing aroma, but the flavor is all green apple and spice. This has lower acidity than normal racy Txakolis, but it's still a tart drink.
2006 Gorrondona Doniene Bizkaiko Txakolina ($21) Pour this weighty Txakoli for the Chardonnay fans. Hints of corn, smoke and meat mingle with the dominant apple aromas, and the spine-tingling acidity can't quite combat the wine's creamy quality. Look for apple skins and pepper on the palate.
2006 Gorrondona Tinto Bizkaiko Txakolina ($21) This red wine, made from 150-year-old vines, oozes earthiness and barnyard aromas, but the flavor is dark cherries and mushrooms mixed in with lightweight tannins. Chill it a little before drinking it.
2005 Txomin Etxaniz Getariako Txakolina ($15) Cotton candy aromas with a mineral undercurrent transform into crisp green apple flavors with a sharp, mouthwatering acidity in this iconic Txakoli.
2006 Uriondo Bizkaiko Txakolina ($14) The delicate green apple aromas, intense mineral flavors, and searing acidity in this wine are reminiscent of Riesling, but don't look for that grape's complexity in this refreshing wine.
Derrick Schneider is a freelance writer and the publisher of the blog An Obsession with Food. E-mail him at wine@sfchronicle.com .
This article appeared on page F - 4 of the San Francisco Chronicle