The Enology Student, the Barbaresco Interlude & the Red Wine Resistance
A boy from Crecente who went to Ribeiro, then Piedmont, then Torino, and came home to the Miño river to make a wine that the DO refused to recognise — Juan González Arjones makes a wild, slightly effervescent field blend of Brancellao, Caiño Longo, Sousón and Espadeiro from sandy granitic soils, de-stemmed by hand, pressed by hand, and bottled as vino de mesa because the authorities could not accept what he was trying to say.
Origin — The Boy Who Left Crecente and Came Back Red
Juan González Arjones was born in Crecente, a small municipality in the south of Galicia, pressed hard against the Portuguese border where the Miño river slows and widens. It is a place of extraordinary natural beauty — forests of oak and chestnut, terraced hillsides, and a climate that feels more Atlantic than Mediterranean but with a southern warmth that sets it apart from the rain-lashed coast. Historically, Crecente was red wine country: a patchwork of small family plots planted to indigenous varieties that had no name outside the village. But by the time Juan was growing up, the region's identity had been flattened into one word: Albariño. The white grape had become the economic engine of Rías Baixas, and the old red varieties — Brancellao, Caiño, Sousón, Espadeiro — were being ripped out or forgotten.
Juan left to study enology. His first stop was Coto de Gomariz in Ribeiro, one of Galicia's most historic wine regions, where he learned the fundamentals of working with native grapes in a traditional context. But he did not stay. Drawn by the mystique of Nebbiolo, he moved to Barbaresco in Piedmont, Italy, and worked at a small family winery — an experience that would imprint on him the value of patience, tradition, and single-vineyard expression. After Italy, he spent time in Torino, working in a wine shop, surrounded by bottles, talking to drinkers, understanding what people actually sought in a glass.
In 2010, he returned to Crecente and founded As Furnias — a name that speaks of the local landscape, the furnias (springs or water sources) that dot the Miño valley. The claim was simple and absolute: "to keep a legacy and history alive. Alive through viticulture and wine." He began by managing a vineyard for the more established Terras Gauda in O Rosal, nearer the ocean, and it was there that he planted his first vineyard. But his heart was always in Crecente, with the varieties his grandparents knew.
The first vintages were tiny — experimental, stubborn, made without regard for the DO rules that favoured monoculture Albariño. The wine was a field blend of red grapes in a region that had become synonymous with white. The authorities did not know what to do with him. The wine was bottled as vino de mesa — table wine — despite coming from one of the most historically significant winegrowing areas of Galicia. Juan did not care. The label was not the point. The grapes were.
The Place — Sandy Granite at the Portuguese Border
Crecente sits in the Condado do Tea subzone of Rías Baixas, the southernmost and most inland of the appellation's five subzones, bordering Portugal along the Miño river. It is warmer and drier than the coastal Salnés valley, with a landscape of rolling hills, forested valleys, and small terraces carved into granitic slopes. This is not the postcard Galicia of fog and Albariño. This is a harder, more rugged country — a place where sheep graze between vines and the border with Portugal is marked only by the slow, wide river.
Sandy Granitic Soils, High Quartz
The soils around Crecente are sandy with granitic origins and a high quartz content — free-draining, poor in organic matter, and ideal for concentrating flavour in low-yielding red varieties. The quartz glitters in the sun. The roots of the old vines dive deep into the bedrock, searching for water and minerals. It is not fertile land. It is honest land.
Grass Cover & Winter Sheep
In the vineyard, the soil is covered with natural grass year-round. In winter, sheep graze between the rows, providing natural fertilisation and keeping the undergrowth in check. The only treatment Juan uses is the occasional Bordeaux blend (copper sulfate and lime) — a traditional, low-impact approach to mildew pressure in this humid Atlantic climate.
Native Varieties, Resisted Forgetting
Juan works with Tinta Vermelha, Brancellao, Caiños, Espadeiro, Sousón, and Carabuñeira — varieties that were once the backbone of Crecente's wine identity but have been pushed to the margins by Albariño monoculture. These are not easy grapes. They are temperamental, low-yielding, and unfamiliar to the international market. Juan's project is, in essence, an act of botanical memory.
The Miño River & the Portuguese Soul
The vineyards lie in the arms of the Miño, the river that separates Galicia from Portugal's Minho region. The Portuguese influence is unmistakable — in the varieties (Espadeiro and Sousón are shared across the border), in the winemaking culture, and in the wine's character. As Furnias drinks like a Galician Vinho Verde: fresh, slightly fizzy, herbaceous, and utterly Atlantic.
Winemaking — Neither Is More Important Than the Other
Juan's philosophy is summed up in a single sentence from his own website: "One likes to let all the parts do the talking: climate, soil, varieties, production. Neither is more important than the other." It is a holistic, almost Taoist approach to winemaking — no single element dominates, and the wine is allowed to find its own equilibrium. This is not intervention for the sake of perfection. It is observation for the sake of truth.
The grapes are hand-harvested and arrive at the winery in small crates. They are de-stemmed, and only a selection of fully mature grapes is used. Fermentation is always with natural yeasts — no inoculation, no temperature control, no additives. During fermentation, Juan performs batonnage (punching down) two to three times a day for 12 to 15 days, extracting colour, tannin, and aromatic complexity by hand and by feel.
After maceration, the grapes are hand-pressed and the wine is transferred to steel tanks, where malolactic fermentation occurs naturally. There is a light clarification with egg white — a traditional, gentle method of settling the wine without stripping its character. There is no filtering. The only addition is the minimum sulfur before bottling, just enough to ensure stability on its journey to the glass.
The result is a wine that is not easy, lush, or perfect — Juan's own words. "We make wines that speak of a place and also, it is true, of the personal way of seeing it." The wine is cherry-red, slightly carbonic, with an aroma that layers mature red fruits over something wilder and more challenging. It is not polished. It is alive.
The Wines — One Cuvée, One Statement
As Furnias is effectively a one-wine project — a single, uncompromising red field blend that changes slightly with each vintage according to what the vineyards give. Production is minuscule, often around 1,000 bottles or fewer, and the wine is released without vintage on some labels, or as a non-vintage cuvée, reflecting Juan's belief that the wine should be judged by what is in the bottle, not by the year on the label.
As Furnias Tinto
Field blend red — CrecenteThe only wine — and it is enough. A field blend of roughly 40% Brancellao, 30% Caiño Longo, 15% Sousón, 10% Espadeiro, and 5% Touriga Nacional (the Portuguese connection made explicit). Hand-harvested, de-stemmed, natural yeast fermentation with batonnage 2-3 times daily for 12-15 days, hand-pressed to steel tanks, natural malolactic, light egg-white clarification, no filtration, minimal sulfur at bottling. Cherry-red and slightly carbonic in the glass. The nose is a kaleidoscope: crazy ripe red fruit, herbaceous florals, wild funk, clove, cedar, and something unmistakably Atlantic. On the palate it is juicy, tangy, savoury, with bracing acidity, crunchy bramble, pomegranate, and the effervescent freshness of a young Vinho Verde. Not easy. Not lush. Not perfect. But unforgettable.
As Furnias Tinto (earlier vintages)
Sans-stem experimentalIn earlier vintages, Juan experimented with stemless fermentation — vinifying without the raspón (stems) to achieve a softer, more approachable profile. These wines showed more carbonic character, lighter colour, and an almost Beaujolais-like crunch. Over time, he has settled on a more consistent de-stemmed approach with longer maceration, but the spirit of experimentation remains. Each vintage is a conversation with the vineyard, not a recipe.
Legacy — The Resistance Against Forgetting
As Furnias matters because it is a one-man resistance against the homogenisation of Galician wine. In a region where the DO infrastructure, the export market, and the tourism industry have all conspired to turn Rías Baixas into a monoculture of Albariño, Juan González Arjones has chosen to work with grapes that almost nobody wants — varieties that are difficult to pronounce, challenging to sell, and impossible to scale. He does not have a marketing budget. He does not have an export manager. He has a shed, a press, some steel tanks, and a stubborn belief that Crecente was red wine country long before it was white.
His legacy is botanical. By working with Brancellao, Caiño Longo, Sousón, Espadeiro, and Carabuñeira, he is preserving a genetic library of Atlantic red varieties that would otherwise be lost to Albariño clones and international demand. These grapes are not curiosities. They are the indigenous voice of the Miño valley — a voice that speaks Portuguese as fluently as Galician, that remembers the pre-phylloxera field blends, that refuses to be categorised.
His legacy is also methodological. In an era of additive-free natural wine that often excuses flaws as "character," Juan's approach is rigorously traditional: egg-white clarification, minimal sulfur, natural yeast, but also cleanliness, selection, and care. The wine is wild, yes — funky, effervescent, untamed — but it is not dirty. It is not careless. It is the product of a trained enologist who chose restraint over intervention, and tradition over trend.
And his legacy is geographic. By insisting on Crecente — a village that appears on no wine tourist map, that has no grand bodega, that sits at the edge of the DO looking across the river at Portugal — Juan has expanded the mental map of Galician wine. He has shown that the action is not only in Salnés and Amandi. It is also in the forgotten villages, the borderlands, the places where sheep graze between vines and the wine is sold as vino de mesa because the authorities have not caught up with the truth.
"As Furnias do not follow a linear path, but simplesmente… never stops walking." The path is not straight. It winds through Barbaresco and Torino, through Ribeiro and O Rosal, through the sandy granitic hills of Crecente and across the Miño into Portugal. But it is a path worth following. Because at the end of it is a glass of wine that tastes like nothing else — wild, Atlantic, slightly fizzy, and absolutely alive.