The Barcelona Oenologist, the Abandoned Vines & the 40-Square-Metre Barracks
A Catalan who left Priorat, Ribera del Duero and Sicily behind to settle in a medieval village in the Maestrazgo — Jordi Solà Contel recovered three hectares of old vines from elderly owners who could no longer farm them, and makes zero-addition reds in a 40-square-metre former Guardia Civil barracks that once sheltered travellers crossing the mountains.
Origin — From Priorat to a Medieval Posada
Jordi Solà Contel was born in Barcelona to a family shaped by the rural exodus of the 1950s — the great wave of migration that emptied Spanish mountain villages for the cities. He studied oenology and did what young winemakers are supposed to do: he worked in Priorat, Ribera del Duero, Toro and Castile, and spent time in Sicily, learning the trade in some of Spain's most famous wine regions. He could have stayed. He could have climbed.
Instead, in 2015, he settled in Mirambel — a magnificent medieval village in the Maestrazgo, the mountainous borderland between Aragon and Valencia where the population has been declining for decades and the vineyards were slipping back into scrub. Not out of nostalgia, but out of a desire to slow down, find meaning again, and build a more coherent way of life. He and his brother opened a small wine bar and delicatessen in the family home, serving local wines, toasted bread and simple dishes to whoever passed through.
The building itself has its own history. It was originally a Guardia Civil barracks, then became a village inn — a posada where travellers could sleep, eat, drink, buy essentials and stable their animals. It was a haven for people crossing this isolated region. Before long, elderly owners in the village began entrusting Jordi with abandoned plots they could no longer cultivate. Little by little, he recovered around three hectares of scattered old vineyards across the surrounding hills.
In 2019, he officially registered his winery — a modest 40-square-metre cellar — and began selling his wines commercially. The bar has since closed; running it alongside the vineyard became impossible in a region where finding staff is increasingly difficult. Today, Jordi welcomes visitors for tastings and meals by reservation, offering not a technical cellar tour but a genuine experience of wine, food, stories and time shared together.
The Place — The Maestrazgo at 900 Metres
Mirambel sits in the Maestrazgo, a high, rugged comarca in the province of Teruel where the mountains of Aragon meet the plains of Valencia. Jordi's ten small vineyards are scattered across the hills around the village, totalling roughly 2.5 hectares, all of them old vines planted between the 1930s and 1950s, sitting between 750 and 1,000 metres above sea level. The climate is continental and severe: bitter winters, hot summers, and the kind of aridity that keeps yields minuscule and concentration high.
Rescued from Abandonment
Many of these vineyards survived only because a few families continued making wine for their own consumption. The rest were being swallowed by scrub. Jordi recovered them plot by plot, nursing the old vines back to health and re-establishing the dry-stone walls that terrace the hillsides.
Organic, with Sulfur and Copper
The vineyards are farmed organically, treated with only a little sulfur and copper. Jordi is transforming the soils by implanting natural plant covers — spontaneous vegetation that protects the ground from erosion, retains moisture, and feeds the soil biology between the rows.
Field Blends of Forgotten Grapes
The plots are traditional field blends: Garnacha, Bobal (once known locally as Tinta Requena), Bonicaire (typical of northern Castellón), Royal (called Rojal or Rotllofa here), Morenillo, and other ancient varieties that are difficult to identify today. Jordi sees this diversity as the hallmark of traditional peasant viticulture, where resilience mattered more than uniformity.
The Cold as Cellar Master
During the second winter, Jordi takes the wines outside the cellar so that the intense cold of the Aragonese mountains precipitates tartrates naturally. No refrigeration, no additives — just the mountain doing what it has always done. Afterwards, the wines return inside to rest for a minimum of 16 months before bottling.
Winemaking — Destemmed, Not Crushed, and Left Alone
Jordi's cellar philosophy is as spare as his vineyard. Harvest is manual, carried out in boxes of about 12 kilograms to keep the fruit intact. Once at the winery, the grapes are destemmed but not crushed — Jordi tries to keep the skins as whole as possible to allow long, gentle macerations. Reds see 20 to 40 days on skins, depending on the wine and the vintage. Fermentation is spontaneous, carried by the yeasts that live on the grapes and in the mountain air.
All wines are made from 100% fermented grapes — no added yeasts, no enzymes, no tartaric acid, no sulfur, no fining agents. The only exception is an extremely coarse filtration, used solely to stop insects or debris from entering the bottle. The wine is otherwise untouched. In drought years, when his own yields collapse, Jordi may purchase small quantities of grapes from Bajo Aragón or Matarraña to complete production, but the cellar treatment remains identical.
Production is tiny and entirely red — 2,500 to 4,800 bottles in a normal year, with a maximum capacity of around 5,000. Recent droughts have pushed numbers toward the lower end. There is no ambition to scale, no investor deck, no export strategy beyond direct sales and a small network of natural wine merchants who understand what these bottles represent.
The Wines — Named for the Vines, Made for the Table
Every wine at Casa Masas is named for the vineyard or the people who tended it before Jordi arrived. The range is all red, all field blend or single-parcel, all made without additives and aged through at least one mountain winter. They are joyful, living wines — the kind that improve with conversation.
Casa Masas Juan
Single-vineyard redFrom the Garnacha vines of la viña de Juan — a parcel entrusted to Jordi by its former owner. Dark berry, mountain herbs, and the stony grip of high-altitude Maestrazgo. Long maceration, 16+ months rest, bottled without filtration.
Casa Masas Roque
Single-vineyard redFrom la viña de Roque — another rescued plot, another story preserved in liquid. Slightly more rustic than Juan, with wild scrub, black pepper, and a tannic backbone that softens over the course of an evening.
4 Moles
Field blendA traditional field blend of Garnacha, Bobal, Monastrell and Embolicaire (Trepat) — four grapes, four personalities, one vineyard. The name refers to the four corners or the four millstones of the Maestrazgo; the wine is a census of what grew here before monoculture arrived.
Con Tú
Garnacha red100% Garnacha tinta — the grape that dominates around Portell and across Jordi's higher plots. A wine of dark cherry, clay dust, and wild thyme; more direct and fruit-driven than the single-vineyard cuvées, but made with the same zero-addition rigour.
Maestrazgo La Foia
Field blendFrom Bobal, Mourvèdre and Bonicaire vines — a darker, more brooding wine that captures the shadowed side of the Maestrazgo. Black plum, dried herbs, and a mineral finish that tastes of the limestone and scrub that surround Mirambel.
Legacy — Holding the Line Against Disappearance
Casa Masas matters because it is a holding action. The Maestrazgo is one of Spain's most dramatically depopulated regions — villages emptied by the rural exodus, vineyards abandoned as elderly owners die or move away, and a landscape that is slowly reverting to wilderness. Jordi Solà Contel did not arrive with capital or inherited land. He arrived with oenological training, a willingness to live simply, and the patience to convince old farmers to let him save their vines.
His legacy is the proof that three hectares of scattered old vines, farmed organically and vinified without additives in a 40-square-metre cellar, can produce wines of character and joy. The field blends — Garnacha, Bobal, Bonicaire, Royal, Morenillo — are a living archive of varieties that almost disappeared. The 16-month mountain rest, the natural cold stabilisation, the coarse filtration: these are not techniques; they are a way of letting the place speak without interruption.
Through his tastings — meals of local ham, cheeses and preserves served by reservation in the former barracks — Jordi has also created a model of rural tourism that serves the village rather than exploiting it. The visitors who make the journey to Mirambel do not come for luxury; they come for coherence. And they leave with bottles that carry the name of a man, a vineyard, and a landscape that was supposed to be forgotten.