Wherever I have wandered in Latin America, I have tried local liqueurs, including local wines. Some countries produce excellent ones – most famously, Chile and Argentina. Some countries … well, their fermented beverages from the humble grape have left unsavory memories on my palate.
My search for good Peruvian vino has taken me from one end of the country to the other. At each pass, I became more and more convinced that while in Peru, it might be better to limit my libations to beer or pisco. This latter, also distilled from grape, is most often served as the famous pisco sour cocktail, which appears either as an appetizer to a Sunday blue plate special or as the brindis (toast) at art openings and literary readings.
Eventually, though, I would be proved wrong – well, to a certain extent.
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Sunrise over the Cordillera de los Cóndores. The Condor Range separates Ecuador and Peru. drawing © Lorraine Caputo
The Beginning of This Enological Adventure
In the boreal spring of 2007, my contract had just ended. I was out of work, no prospects – but a bit of savings. I decided to head to a part of Peru that I had always wanted to know: Chachapoyas and the Utcubamba River Valley. This region of Peru, rich in traditional villages and ancient ruins, is on the eastern slopes of the Andes as they tumble into the Amazon jungle.
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Getting to the Utcubamba River Valley
The journey to Chachapoyas was an adventure. I love the challenge of crossing borders at out-of-the-way (but legal) places. This time, I would travel from Ecuador to Peru through La Balsa. This would position me just north of my destination.
It isn’t a straight-forward trip – at least not in those days of early 2007. I spent a few days in Cuenca, Ecuador. My next stop was Vilcabamba. From there, I left on the morning’s second bus to Zumba. The six-hour journey southward was on a partially unpaved road through orchid-strewn cloud forest. I hoped there would be no landslide delays – a common occurrence between December and April, and we were right in that season.
I hoped to catch the last ranchera to La Balsa and from there to make it across the border before it closed at 6 p.m. I didn’t make it. I had to spend the night in Zumba.
The next day, I caught that open-sided bus to La Balsa. The two-hour ride on wooden benches was a hard introduction to rural life. It was then a bus to the border and across a short bridge to the Peruvian post. The official there had all the rest of the journey’s trajectory printed off for travelers coming this way: a colectivo taxi to San Ignacio (2 hours), a microbus (combi) to Jaén (3 hours) and lastly, a colectivo to Bagua Grande (1 hour). From there, transport heads west to Chiclayo, east to Yurimaguas and points in between, and south to my goal, Chachapoyas (3 hours).
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Exploring the Utcubamba River Valley
I spent weeks visiting the small villages of Huancas, Lámud, Tingo, Jalca Grande and Leymebamba. I explored many ruins: Pueblo de los Muertos, Karajía, Macro, Óllape, Revash and majestic Kuélap. I hiked several of the ancient roads that weave through the region. And I wrote many poems about this Land of the Clouds.
My birthday was coming ’round. I wanted to give myself a great treat: Pack a picnic lunch and head up to Levanto, a small village 23 kilometers southwest of Chachapoyas. Once there, I would visit the ruins of Yálape, then hike the 16-kilometer pre-Incan road back to Chachapoyas.
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My Peruvian Wine Search Begins
For a week I asked everywhere: “What is the best Peruvian wine?” I asked in restaurants, in shops, at hotels – even the tellers at the bank. Everyone said the same: a borgoño (burgundy) made by the country’s biggest winery. I finally found it in one of the supermarkets in Chachapoyas – at $14 per bottle.
Early the morning of my birthday, I awoke and packed a lunch for my outing. I made a spread of local cheese, chopped Kalamata-style olives, garlic, onion and oregano, all of which I bought at Chachapoyas’ immense market. I prepared sandwiches and tossed it into my shoulder bag along with some fruit, water – and a small bottle filled with the borgoño.
Down at Chachapoyas’ main plaza, I took a colectivo (a shared taxi) up the mountain to Levanto. I strolled around that village for a while, and then visited the ruins at the edge of town, at the beginning of the ancient stone road. Before setting off on the downhill, 16-kilometer trek, I sat on the ridge to enjoy my picnic. The view was incredible, with the mountains folding away on either side. I took a sip of the wine. Immediately my tongue curled from the acidic tartness. Then the sickeningly sweet aftertaste hit my taste buds. Oh, my – and this is the best Peru has to offer in wine?
For several hours, I headed down the ancient road. The stones, slick from recent rains, were haphazardly scattered from centuries of mule traffic. I leaped over pools of earth-colored water. I dodged mud – sometimes unsuccessfully. At times, I passed people who were climbing homewards. And every once in while I paused to take poetic notes.
As soon as I emerged from the stone path onto the highway, I hitched back to Chachapoyas. My payment to the driver and his friends was the rest of the wine in my bottle – a very welcomed gift on that Friday after work. When I got to my hostel, I gave the rest of the burgundy to the owner and her cleaning help.
Everyone was happy, except for me – who was out $14. But at least it wasn’t as bad as the turpentine-essence vino in Guatemala.
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A delicious lunch, featuring alpaca steak and a goblet of Majes wine. photo © Lorraine Caputo
My Peruvian Wine Adventures Continue
Eventually I would be proven wrong about Peruvian wine – after many kilometers down the road and a few years later. In the far south of the country, I learned it isn’t all that hopeless of a cause.
Honestly, the Chachapoyas experience wasn’t enough to turn me off from trying vino again in Peru. After all, there are many wineries, many grapes. Pisco, another product distilled from the fruit of the vine, is exceptionally good in this country. But no matter where or when I tried wine – even at fine restaurants like The Mossone in Huacachina or that of the Nazca Lines Hotel in Nazca – I always was disappointed.
Until one afternoon I dined at El Viñedo in Arequipa. I opted for its menu turístico, a moderately priced meal that included a pisco sour aperitif, choice of appetizer, main course and dessert. For the main dish I had the alpaca steak accompanied by a goblet of the house wine. Upon taking that first sip of the vino, my eyes widened. Surely a wine this good has to be imported. Upon paying my bill, I asked where their house wine comes from. Valle de Majes, was the reply.
The Majes Valley lies just west of Arequipa. This is home to this region’s prime pisco and wine vintners. I hope someday to pay them a visit and try their products – perhaps during the Festival de Vendimia (Grape Harvest Festival), which is celebrated sometime between February and April every year.
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With the Passage of Time …
Even more years – and a worldwide pandemic – have passed since my Peruvian wine adventures. With this passage of time, the Hotel Mossone in Huacachina and Nazca Lines Hotel have passed to the hands of the nation-wide hotelier chain, DM Hoteles. Perhaps the wines their restaurants now serve are of better quality. Unfortunately, it appears Restaurante El Viñedo in Arequipa no longer exists, yet another casualty of the COVID-19 pandemic.
Valle de Majes, though, continues to produce fine wines. The noble grape and its liqueurs are still fêted every year with the region’s Festival de Vendimia. Events include grape stomping, concerts, traditional dances, shows of Peru’s famous caballos de paso (Peruvian paso horse), gastronomy and – of course – the election of the Reina Señorita Vendimia beauty queen. Check here to find out the festival’s date for this year.
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