The Sixth Generation, the Concrete Cathedral & the Woman Who Said No to Oak
In San Vicente de la Sonsierra, at the foot of the Cantabrian mountains, Janire Moraza — sixth-generation grower, known to her friends as Julia — and her husband Patricio Brongo, a Quebec cider maker turned Rioja rebel, farm 23 hectares of biodynamic vineyard and make oak-free, concrete-aged, early-harvest Rioja that tastes like the 1960s: light, fruity, fresh, and honest.
Origin — 1970s, the Coop Boom & the Family That Refused
The Moraza family has been growing grapes and making wine in San Vicente de la Sonsierra for six generations — long before Rioja became a brand, long before the Crianza/Reserva/Gran Reserva system was invented in 1979, and long before the world decided that Rioja should taste like vanilla and coconut. San Vicente is one of the first villages in Rioja Alta to be known exclusively for the high quality of its wines — a medieval settlement at the foot of the Toloño mountains, part of the Sierra Cantabria, where the name of the village literally means under the mountains. The Ebro River flows below. The vineyards climb the slopes above. And the Moraza family has been there, quietly, through every fashion and every fad.
During the cooperative boom of the 1970s, when almost every small grower in Rioja sold their fruit to the big coops and let their identity dissolve into anonymous bulk wine, the Moraza family refused. They kept making their own wine. They bottled it themselves — one of the first small producers in the region to do so. At that time, it was more common to sell wine in larger containers: people would bring a container, fill it, and go. But the Morazas were proud of what they made at home. They registered their family name as a brand. And they persisted, even when persistence was unfashionable.
In 1983, the family built a central winery — a crucial step, as their vineyards were spread across a fairly large area, and until then they had made wine in several very small cellars. The new winery was constructed entirely of concrete, over three levels, designed for gravity-flow winemaking — a radical choice in an era when stainless steel and oak were becoming the symbols of modernity. The concrete was not a fashion statement. It was a practical decision, rooted in the winemaking principles that had prevailed in their ancestral house. Concrete allows micro-oxygenation similar to large old barrels, but without the flavour imposition of new wood. It was, in retrospect, the first act of rebellion.
Janire Moraza — who goes by Julia among friends and colleagues — is the sixth generation. She grew up in the vineyards, worked alongside her father and uncle, and watched as Rioja transformed from a region of small growers into an industrial powerhouse. In 2011, she took over the estate. Her first vintage was 2013. And she began to change things — not by abandoning tradition, but by returning to it. She convinced her father and uncle to convert the vineyards to organic farming. She sought new export opportunities — until then, Moraza had sold only in Spain. And she began the process of biodynamic certification. When she started talking about biodynamics to her father, he told her they were already using many of the principles. She simply made them formal.
The Place — The Cantabrian Shadow, 450–700 Metres & Calcareous Clay
San Vicente de la Sonsierra sits high above the Ebro River in Rioja Alta, at the base of the Cantabrian and Toloño mountain ranges — a dramatic landscape where medieval stone houses cluster beneath peaks that dominate the horizon. The climate is dry and cool, influenced simultaneously by the Atlantic, Mediterranean, and Cantabrian seas — a rare triple influence that creates a microclimate of warm winter air and dry summer heat. The altitude ranges from 450 to 700 metres, with the highest parcels catching the cool mountain breeze and the lowest sitting closer to the river's moderating influence. The soils are calcareous clay — lively, mineral-rich, and free from artificial herbicides, pesticides, and fertilisers.
13 Parcels, 23 Hectares, Three Villages
The Moraza family farms 23 hectares spread across 13 parcels — 11 in San Vicente de la Sonsierra itself, and two in the neighbouring village of Ábalos, with one additional plot in Peciña and another in La Bastida. The parcels vary in size from 2,000 square metres to five hectares, each with its own exposure, elevation, and soil composition. The majority is planted to Tempranillo, supported by Garnacha, Graciano, Viura, Tempranillo Blanco, and Calagrano. The diversity of parcels allows Janire and Patricio to make single-vineyard wines that express specific terroirs rather than blending everything into a homogenous "Rioja" flavour. It is a mosaic approach in a region that has increasingly favoured monoculture.
Certified Organic Since 2006, Biodynamic Since 2013
The vineyards have been certified organic since 2006 — one of the earliest certifications in Rioja. Janire and Patricio then pursued biodynamic certification, making Moraza one of the few producers in Rioja to hold both designations. They do not plant a cover crop, but allow natural herbs to grow between the rows — rosemary, thyme, fennel — and plan to introduce almond and nut trees to the northern edges of some vineyards to increase biodiversity and block the wind naturally. The focus is on soil health: they make the 500 and 501 biodynamic preparations themselves and apply them according to the lunar calendar. When you work naturally, traceability is everything.
Early Harvest for Freshness & Lower Alcohol
Janire's most significant viticultural decision is harvesting early — often among the first in Rioja. Her father and uncle used to pick later, chasing higher alcohol and riper fruit — "20 years ago that was the fashion!" But since 2013, year by year, she has moved the harvest earlier, seeking phenolic ripeness while preserving freshness and acidity. The result is wines of lower alcohol — around 12.5% — with bright fruit, fine tannins, and a digestibility that is rare in a region known for extraction and oak. It is a return to the wines her grandfather made: light, fruity, and honest. "My vision is to go back to our roots."
The Graciano Grafted onto White Vines
When the Rioja DOC changed its laws and forced growers to decrease the production of white varieties, Janire's father was devastated — he is someone who lives in the vineyards, and the white vines were part of his identity. Rather than rip them out, he grafted Graciano onto the old white vine rootstocks — preserving the deep roots, keeping the vines alive, and creating a tiny plot of Graciano that now produces only 750 bottles a year. It is a wine of pepper and spice, completely different from the fruity Tempranillo and Garnacha — something to explore, something completely different, and a testament to a father's refusal to let bureaucracy destroy his vineyard.
Winemaking — Concrete, Gravity & the Refusal of Crianza
Janire's cellar philosophy is disarmingly simple: work a lot in the vineyards, and very little in the winery. All grapes are hand-harvested and brought to the concrete winery, where they are processed via gravity flow over three floors — no pumping, no excessive handling, no mechanical violence. Fermentation occurs spontaneously with indigenous yeasts in concrete tanks. The wines are not fined or filtered. And no oak is used for any red wine — vinification and élevage take place entirely in concrete, preserving the purity of the fruit without the masking effect of wood.
Janire does not adhere to the Rioja Crianza/Reserva/Gran Reserva system — the ageing designations that require specific periods in oak and bottle. "The first mention of Crianza was in 1979 — kind of late!" she points out. "If you find a bottle from the 60s, it will say Cosecha 1967, not Crianza. Many of those wines were made in barrels, but very big barrels that were super old, so it gave no flavour to the wine. To make a wine that's labelled with Crianza now, it has to be aged in a Bordeaux barrel of 225 litres — much smaller, and when they're new you get very strong oak flavours. To make the kind of wine like the ones from the 60s, you need to have very old barrels. I don't have any of those." Instead, she has concrete. And the concrete gives her the micro-oxygenation of large old wood, without the flavour.
The winemaking is deliberately traditional — how Janire's grandfather's generation made wine, before Rioja became industrialised and tailored to the international market. The reds ferment in concrete, undergo malolactic in concrete, and age in concrete. The whites — Viura, Tempranillo Blanco, Calagrano — ferment and age in concrete or stainless steel. The 4 Caminos orange wine — Janire's first experiment with skin contact, launched in 2018 — is a Viura that macerates on its skins, producing an amber, tannic, and deeply complex wine that challenges every assumption about Rioja whites. The Soplar — a light Garnacha-Tempranillo blend — is made in the old-fashioned clairette style: low alcohol, light colour, fresh fruit, meant for sharing, for drinking without thinking, for moving from one bar to the next with a glass in hand.
Janire's radicalism is quiet but absolute. She is not shouting about being natural. She is simply being natural — organic, biodynamic, indigenous yeast, unfiltered, concrete-aged, early-harvested, low-alcohol. She is a woman in a rural, male-dominated world who took over a family estate, convinced the older generation to change, and proved that the future of Rioja lies not in more oak, more alcohol, and more extraction, but in less. "Making wine is seen as a man's work in these rural areas," she recalls. "My grandma used to taste tanks and say, this is better than that one — the female taste was more recognised in this area. But beyond that, all the business decisions were made by men." Not anymore.
The Wines — From the Four Roads to the Breath
Bodegas Moraza produces a focused range of wines from its 23 hectares across 13 parcels — all certified organic and biodynamic, fermented with indigenous yeasts, unfiltered, and aged without oak. The range spans red, white, orange, and rosé, each expressing a specific parcel or a specific intention. Until Janire took over, Moraza sold only in Spain. Today, 96% of production is exported — to Canada, the USA, the UK, Hong Kong, Belgium, and beyond. The world, it turns out, was waiting for Rioja to become itself again.
Moraza "4 Caminos" Tempranillo
Single-vineyard red — San Vicente de la SonsierraThe estate's flagship red — 100% Tempranillo from the 4 Caminos vineyard, the family's largest parcel, situated at the crossroads of four paths at 530 metres on friable sandy clay soils. The vines are 50 years old, trellised to withstand the prevailing north winds. Hand-harvested early, fermented spontaneously in concrete, and aged entirely in concrete. The result is a Tempranillo of extraordinary freshness and clarity — red berry fruit, Rioja spice tones, soil undertones, and a wisp of tannin that gives structure without weight. Medium-bodied, succulent, and deeply satisfying. A wine for lamb, for beans, for cod — or for nothing at all. ~12.5% ABV. Indigenous yeasts, unfiltered, minimal SO₂.
Moraza "4 Caminos" Viura
White — San Vicente de la SonsierraA pure, unadulterated Viura from the same 4 Caminos vineyard — 100% Viura at 600 metres on clay and limestone soils, certified organic and biodynamic. Hand-harvested, gently pressed, and fermented spontaneously in concrete. The result is a white wine of surprising minerality and freshness — lemon, green apple, white flowers, and a distinct calcareous chalkiness that prevents the fruit from becoming simple. Light-bodied, crisp, and deeply drinkable. It is a white Rioja that has nothing to do with the heavy, oxidised, oak-aged whites that once defined the region. It is Viura as it should be: transparent, mineral, and alive. Indigenous yeasts, unfiltered, minimal SO₂.
Moraza "4 Caminos" Orange
Skin-contact Viura — San Vicente de la SonsierraJanire's first experiment with skin-contact wine, launched in 2018 — 100% Viura from the 4 Caminos vineyard, fermented and macerated on its skins in concrete, producing a wine of deep amber colour, firm tannin, and complex aromatic evolution. The nose is of dried apricot, orange peel, wild honey, and Mediterranean herbs. The palate is full-bodied, grippy, and savoury — a wine that demands food and attention. It is an orange wine that challenges every assumption about what Rioja can be: not oaky, not heavy, not conventional, but honest, radical, and deeply rooted in the terroir of San Vicente. For adventurous drinkers, for grilled vegetables, for the moment when you realise Rioja has more to offer than the textbook allows. Indigenous yeasts, unfiltered, minimal SO₂.
Moraza "Soplar"
Garnacha-Tempranillo blend — Rioja AltaA light, easy-going, old-fashioned clairette-style Rioja — Garnacha and Tempranillo from numerous plots around San Vicente de la Sonsierra and Ábalos, planted between 450 and 650 metres on clay-limestone soils. Fermented and aged in concrete. The wine comes in at 12.5% alcohol and is fairly light in colour — a beautiful, spicy bouquet of red and black raspberries, Rioja spice tones, soil tones, cigar smoke, and a touch of clove. On the palate: bright, full-bodied yet succulent, with a lovely core of fruit, good soil undertow, only a wisp of tannin, and a long, complex, nicely balanced finish. Soplar means to blow — to blow into the glass, to share, to drink without thinking. It is the kind of wine that people would drink when moving from one bar to another in old Rioja — a lighter style, what you could call glou-glou. Indigenous yeasts, unfiltered, minimal SO₂.
Moraza "Vino de San Vicente de la Sonsierra" — Tempranillo
Red — San Vicente de la SonsierraA 100% Tempranillo that carries the name of the village itself — Vino de San Vicente de la Sonsierra — a declaration of place over appellation. Sourced from multiple biodynamic parcels around the village, hand-harvested early, fermented spontaneously in concrete, and bottled without oak influence. The nose is of red berry fruit, raspberry, cherry, and a touch of Rioja spice. The palate is fresh, juicy, and approachable — lower in alcohol than conventional Rioja, with grippy tannins and a clean, savoury finish. It is a wine that proves Tempranillo does not need oak to be complex. It needs good fruit, good farming, and the patience to let it speak. Indigenous yeasts, unfiltered, minimal SO₂.
Moraza "Vino de San Vicente de la Sonsierra" — Rosado
Rosé — San Vicente de la SonsierraA dry rosé made from 100% Tempranillo — pale salmon in colour, crisp, and deeply refreshing. Sourced from organic and biodynamically farmed parcels around San Vicente, with the same early-harvest discipline as the reds. The nose is of wild strawberry, rose petal, citrus, and a touch of mountain herb. The palate is light, dry, and mouthwatering — a rosé for long lunches, for grilled fish, for the terraces of the Ebro valley. It is a wine that reflects the triple influence of the Atlantic, Mediterranean, and Cantabrian seas: fresh, saline, and unmistakably northern Spanish. Indigenous yeasts, unfiltered, minimal SO₂.
Moraza Graciano
Single-varietal red — San Vicente de la SonsierraThe most limited and personal wine in the portfolio — 100% Graciano from vines that were grafted onto old white vine rootstocks when the Rioja DOC forced growers to reduce white production. Janire's father, devastated by the order to rip out his white vines, chose instead to graft Graciano onto them — preserving the deep roots and keeping the vines alive. The result is a tiny production of roughly 750 bottles per year. The wine is completely different from the fruity Tempranillo and Garnacha — peppery, spicy, dark, and intense, with a structure and an aromatic profile that is closer to the Rhône than to conventional Rioja. It is a wine of rebellion, of a father's love for his vineyard, and of a daughter's determination to honour that love. Indigenous yeasts, unfiltered, minimal SO₂.
Moraza "Tempranillo Blanco" / "Calagrano"
Whites — Rioja AltaJanire's white wine experiments — Tempranillo Blanco, the white mutation of Rioja's great red grape, and Calagrano, a native white variety nearly lost to industrialisation. Both are hand-harvested from biodynamic parcels, fermented spontaneously in concrete or stainless steel, and bottled without oak. The Tempranillo Blanco is fresh, floral, and slightly herbal — a white wine with the DNA of a red. The Calagrano is rarer, more austere, and deeply mineral — a wine for those who seek the forgotten varieties of Rioja. Together, they represent Janire's commitment to preserving the full genetic heritage of her region, not merely the varieties that the market demands. Indigenous yeasts, unfiltered, minimal SO₂.
Moraza Experimental / Limited Releases
Variable — Rioja AltaJanire and Patricio's experimental edge — small-lot cuvées that explore the boundaries of what biodynamic Rioja can express. These may include single-parcel bottlings from specific elevations, extended skin-contact whites, carbonic maceration reds, or blends that incorporate varieties not typically associated with the region. The common thread is indigenous yeast, zero oak, and total creative freedom guided by the lunar calendar. These wines are not always available. When they are, they are shared with the small community of collectors who understand that Moraza's experiments are not gimmicks but genuine inquiries into what the calcareous clay of San Vicente de la Sonsierra can express when no Crianza rule is watching. Extremely limited.
Legacy — The Concrete Cathedral, the Woman & the New Face of Rioja
Bodegas Moraza matters because it is one of the most important and necessary wine projects in contemporary Rioja — the work of a sixth-generation grower who, in 2011, looked at the oaky, high-alcohol, internationally tailored direction of her region and decided to go backwards — to the 1960s, to her grandfather's plough, to the light, fruity, 12.5% wines that her father drank when he was sixteen. From 23 hectares of certified organic and biodynamic vineyard in San Vicente de la Sonsierra and Ábalos, Janire Moraza and Patricio Brongo have created a portfolio that includes concrete-aged Tempranillo, skin-contact Viura, old-fashioned clairette-style Soplar, and a 750-bottle Graciano grafted onto white vine roots — all without oak, all with indigenous yeast, all exported to a world that had forgotten Rioja could be fresh.
Her legacy is agricultural. By converting 23 hectares to organic farming in 2006 — one of the earliest certifications in Rioja — by pursuing biodynamic certification and making the 500 and 501 preparations herself, by harvesting early to preserve freshness and lower alcohol, and by farming 13 separate parcels with individual attention rather than blending everything into anonymity, Janire has created a model for viticulture that is closer to the pre-industrial Rioja than to the modern export machine. The natural herbs between the rows — rosemary, thyme, fennel — are not decoration. They are the vineyard's immune system.
Her legacy is also architectural and methodological. The 1983 concrete gravity-flow winery — three floors, no pumping, concrete tanks for fermentation and ageing — is a physical manifesto. The refusal of oak is not a gimmick. It is a historical correction: Janire points out that the Crianza system was only invented in 1979, and that the old wines of the 1960s were made in large, neutral barrels that imparted no flavour. To replicate that today without access to such barrels, she uses concrete — the same micro-oxygenation, the same roundness, none of the vanilla. It is a solution of extraordinary elegance.
And her legacy is familial and cultural. The Graciano grafted onto white vine roots — a father's emotional response to a bureaucratic order to rip out his white grapes — is now one of the most sought-after wines in the portfolio. The Soplar — named for the breath, the blow, the act of sharing — recreates the clairette style of old Rioja, when wine was drunk from bar to bar, glass to glass, without ceremony. And the fact that 96% of production is now exported — from a bodega that, until Janire took over, sold only in Spain — is proof that the world was waiting for Rioja to become itself again.
From the cooperative refusal of the 1970s to the concrete cathedral of 1983, from the father's grafted Graciano to the daughter's early harvest, from the SAQ shelves of Quebec to the natural wine bars of Brooklyn, Bodegas Moraza is a testament to what happens when a woman decides that the grandfather's plough is older than the appellation, that the concrete tank is truer than the Bordeaux barrel, and that the best way to honour Rioja is to make it taste like Rioja again. The sixth generation has spoken. The Cantabrian mountains listen. And the drinker is transformed.