Buenos Aires, Argentina
Sitting at Don Julio, a steakhouse famous long before Michelin noticed, Matías Etchart uncorked his Amar y Vivir Malbec.
His “kids” — now in their mid-20s and starting their new jobs — laughed, forks clinked, and the buzz of conversation filled the room.
Outside, Palermo’s sun stretched shadows lazily toward evening, painting the streets in a soft, golden glow.
Diego (2nd from left), Matías (2nd from right), and the kids
Autumn is slowly making its presence known in the southern hemisphere — my favorite season, with days still warm but nights now gently turning chilly.
Don Julio has earned Michelin stars and countless headlines — but ratings are both a blessing and a curse. What used to be an easy restaurant to get a table, now there is a line, where you used to have a handshake from the owner, now you have maitre d’.
Matías’ wine Amar y Vivir has been receiving 95 – 96 points in the last few years, but he remains down to earth about the point system.
Getting a star or 100-point wine rating is exhilarating. But when those ratings change over time, it doesn’t mean the quality has vanished. It might simply reflect a shift in expectations, a different lens through which people experience it.
These days, Don Julio often has more diners taking photos than genuinely savoring their meals—caught up in the hype instead of living fully in the moment.
Yet the steaks here have always been extraordinary—juicy, perfectly crisp, independent of stars or guidebooks.
Because behind every perfect bite of meat (and behind every sip of great wine), lies a careful chain of quiet labor.
Long before it reaches the chef’s skilled hands and finally your plate, that meat was thoughtfully raised, carefully bred, patiently aged.
Similarly, I think of Mariah’s husband Adrien who is overlooking our vineyard in Pucarilla, Finca Gualfín, where the malbec grapes for Tacana are grown.
Real quality emerges slowly, quietly, without shortcuts or flashy labels.
This year, nature was exceptionally generous — torrential rains in January and February soaked deep into thirsty soil, awakening vines with renewed vitality.
Yet great harvests aren’t merely a product of luck — Adrien’s careful, patient management made all the difference.
Our harvest for Tacana began this week, hands carefully checking grape clusters, feeling their weight and sensing their readiness.
Ripeness in grapes isn’t measured by squeezing them like avocados or peaches. Instead, it’s precisely measured in something called Brix—the sugar content in the grapes.
Adrien has been continuously monitoring the grapes, and when he gives the signal, we move quickly but carefully, not like a pest rushing through a cornfield, but with precise, deliberate hands.
Aim for around 24°Bx, and the wine sings with freshness, elegance, and balance.
Delay too long, let it rise above 26, and the subtle magic quickly slips away.
Adrien’s meticulous timing this year ensured the grapes reached their sweet spot of perfection.
That’s how you achieve real satisfaction—by doing meticulous work in the vineyard first, saving you effort later in the winery. Great wines begin on the vine, long before they ever see a bottle.
At Don Julio, Matías pours another glass, and we silently toast:
To Adrien’s diligence, Matías’s passion, and the invisible, patient labor that makes truly extraordinary wine possible.
Cheers,
Diego
