Chapter 7 - Under the Skin

I was not planning on making a Moscatel with Nova Radix. I used to be the first to say: “Anything but Muscat” because the Muscat family of grapes has a reputation. In the wrong place and hands, it can go full potpourri, with the kind of floral intensity that makes you wonder if someone fermented it in a soap store. 

That was until Leo told me the story of viña Flora and its old Moscatel bush vines and made me taste one of his skin-contact Moscatel wines. It was aromatic, but not loud. Textured, but not heavy. Dry, fresh, and quietly complex, carrying sun, sea and soil in the glass. It was the kind of wine that feels both ancient and weirdly modern. I knew then and there: this is what Nova Radix is all about. Leaving behind preconceived notions of grapes, opening minds and mouths to adventure and getting to know different expressions of old grape varieties.

In Itata, Moscatel behaves. The reasons are two-fold: the Pacific and the granite in the soils. The Humboldt Current, a cold Pacific ocean current moving Antarctic water north along the Chilean coast, cools the air rolling inland, which means Moscatel doesn’t race to ripeness. Misty mornings filter the sun, warm afternoons help aromas build and cool nights keep the fresh acidity locked in. So instead of becoming a loud, sweet-talking flirt, Itata Moscatel turns into the charming introvert who says one perfect thing and leaves you thinking about it for three days.

Then there’s the soil. Much of Itata is built on old, poor soils, mainly decomposed granite, quartz and volcanic sand. Not the kind of earth that spoils a vine. Most Moscatel vineyards in Itata are dry-farmed, relying on only winter rains and deep roots. The vine has to dig for water. It has to earn its grapes. Which is exactly why the fruit ends up tasting so pure and so precise.

Moscatel grown in Itata, just like its inhabitants, has thick skin. That is why long before anyone started saying “orange wine” with a straight face, Moscatel here was already being fermented on its skins. Not because it was trendy. But because the grapes needed to macerate and ferment on their skins so they could more easily be pressed in the old basket presses. 

Its skins give Moscatel texture, a gentle grip which turns all those floral aromas into something dry and savoury and genuinely food-friendly. For a long time, these wines weren’t bottled with ambition. They were made for the family. For the village. For the table. And then the world changed. Skin contact became fashionable. Orange wine became a hipster hallmark. People started paying serious money for things that, in Itata, were never considered revolutionary.

Moscatel didn’t reinvent itself to match a trend. It just kept doing what it had always done until the rest of the world, including myself, finally caught up. Because old vines don't chase fashion. They outlast it.