Make Clarete Great Again — The Duero, the Field Blend & the Wine Without Makeup
In the heart of the Ribera Burgalesa, César Fernández Díaz tends vines his grandparents planted — Tempranillo, Bobal, Garnacha, Albillo, and a dozen others mixed together in the old way. He farms biodynamically, works with a small tractor, and makes wines so honest they cannot carry the DO: claretes co-fermented with white grapes, field blends from 95-year-old vineyards, and reds of minerality, acidity, elegance, and austerity. His youngest vineyard is 75 years old. His philosophy is Burgundian. His T-shirts are a manifesto.
Origin — Reclaiming the Roots, the Coplants & the Long Swallow
César Fernández Díaz is viticultor, enólogo, and proprietor of a small project in the Ribera del Duero — though he sells his wines as Vino de la Tierra de Castilla y León, deliberately outside the appellation that would demand he strip his vineyards of their identity. His project is a return to origins: to the way vines were planted before the monoculture of Tempranillo took over, before the DO decreed what could and could not be in a bottle of Ribera.
He works 1.8 hectares directly in two villages on opposite banks of the Duero — Fuentelcésped to the south, where the soils are sandy loam, and Peñaranda de Duero to the north, where the soils are clay-limestone. He also buys certified organic grapes from like-minded growers who farm the old way. All of his own vineyards are biodynamic: he works the soil with a small tractor, applies biodynamic preparations (mainly 500P), and uses plant-based teas — nettle, yarrow — to prevent disease. Sheep manure fertilises the earth. Short pruning keeps yields low. The vines are dry-farmed, bush-trained in the traditional en vaso style, and shaped by decades of Castilian wind.
But the true signature of César's vineyards is their age and their diversity. He says his youngest vineyard is 75 years old. Many are 80, 85, 95 years old — planted by grandparents and great-grandparents in an era when farmers did not think in single varieties. These are field blends: Tempranillo grows alongside Bobal, Garnacha, Bastardo, and Listán Prieto; Albillo Mayor and Pirulés (Jaén) provide the white grapes that the DO would erase. For César, this diversity is not a problem to be solved. It is the main advantage of growing old vines — the white grapes bring freshness and agility, the reds bring depth and structure, and together they create a wine that no modern plantation could replicate.
He thinks in Burgundian terms: regional wines, village wines, lieu-dit wines, single-vineyard wines. Each level reflects a deeper conversation with a specific piece of land. And he thinks in human terms: "Vinos que se puedan beber con facilidad, de trago largo, pero que tengan capacidad de envejecer. Que se embotelle un paisaje, que se beba unas viñas, una zona y una añada." Wines that can be drunk easily, with a long swallow, but that have the capacity to age. That a landscape is bottled, that one drinks some vines, a zone, and a vintage.
The Place — Two Banks, Two Soils, One River
The Duero is the spine of Castilla y León — a river that has carved its identity into the wine culture of the plateau for two millennia. César Fernández Díaz farms on both sides of it, giving him access to two distinct terroirs within a few kilometres. It is a Burgundian approach to a region that usually thinks in brand names and extraction: not one big blend, but a mosaic of parcels, each with its own voice.
Fuentelcésped — Sandy Loam
South of the Duero, in the village of Fuentelcésped, the soils are sandy loam — lighter, warmer, and free-draining. The Cinco Moyos vineyard sits here: a single plot of 95-year-old vines that César farms biodynamically. The sand gives the wines a lifted, aromatic quality, a fine-boned structure, and a perfume that leans toward red berries and wild herbs rather than the dark, brooding fruit of clay. These are the village wines of the south bank: elegant, aerial, and precise.
Peñaranda de Duero — Clay-Limestone
North of the river, in Peñaranda de Duero, the soils shift to clay-limestone — cooler, more retentive, and capable of producing wines with greater density and mineral backbone. The Viña de Carremolino and the Espantaburros vineyards are here, among others, on plots of 80 to 85 years. The clay gives body, the limestone gives acidity, and the combination produces wines that can age with the seriousness of a great village Burgundy — but with the sun of Castilla in their veins.
Biodynamic Farming & Plant Teas
César applies biodynamic preparations — mainly 500P — and brews plant-based teas from nettle, yarrow, and other local herbs to strengthen the vines against disease. He fertilises with sheep manure and works the soil with a small tractor, keeping the earth alive and aerated without compacting it. No chemical pesticides. No herbicides. The goal is not certification but vitality: vines that express their place because their place is healthy.
The Coplanted Varieties
The old vineyards are a living seed bank. Reds: Tempranillo (the majority), Bobal, Garnacha, Bastardo, Listán Prieto. Whites: Albillo Mayor and Pirulés (Jaén). This is how Ribera was planted before the DO existed — before the market demanded purity. The white grapes ripen earlier, bring acidity and floral lift, and moderate the alcohol of the reds. The reds provide colour, tannin, and depth. Together they are a conversation, not a monologue.
Winemaking — Without Makeup, With Reflection
César's cellar philosophy is captured in a single phrase: "vinos sin maquillaje" — wines without makeup. But he is quick to add that this is not thoughtless abandonment. It is non-interventionist winemaking with reflection behind it. He does not correct, filter, stabilise, or add preservatives. He does not fine. He does not cold-stabilise. He does not add selected yeasts. The fermentations are spontaneous. The wines are unfiltered. What goes into the bottle is what the vineyard gave him — nothing more, nothing less.
He is, however, meticulous about fruit selection. Grapes are hand-harvested and sorted in the vineyard and again at the winery. Only the healthiest clusters enter the vats. This rigorous triage is his insurance policy: clean fruit means clean fermentation, and clean fermentation means less need for intervention later. The wines ferment in a mix of vessels — old oak barrels, concrete, and stainless steel — depending on the parcel and the vintage. Ageing is generally in old French oak, but the oak is deliberately imperceptible. César is not making barrel wine. He is making vineyard wine.
The result is a range that defies the stereotype of Ribera del Duero. These are not opaque, over-extracted, high-alcohol blockbusters. They are fresh, agile, mineral, and savoury. Alcohol levels are moderate — the Espantaburros Clarete clocks in at just 12.5%, with a pH of 3.05 and 8.11 grams of acidity. In a region where 15% is common, this is radical. The reds are similarly restrained: transparent in colour, filigreed in tannin, and built around acidity rather than weight. They are wines for the table, for the long swallow, for the second glass.
César's approach is also Burgundian in its hierarchy. He produces regional blends that speak broadly of the Ribera Burgalesa; village wines from Fuentelcésped and Peñaranda that speak of their specific soil; and single-vineyard wines like Cinco Moyos and Carremolino that speak of a single row, a single slope, a single moment in time. It is a structure that demands discipline, patience, and an almost obsessive attention to detail — all of which César possesses in abundance.
The Wines — Bottling a Landscape, Drinking a Vintage
César's range is small, precise, and organised along Burgundian lines — from regional blends to single-vineyard expressions. Production is extremely limited: a few hundred or few thousand bottles per cuvée, all bottled without fining, filtration, or added sulphites. Because the field blends include white grapes and unauthorised red varieties, none can carry the DO Ribera del Duero. They are bottled honestly as Vino de la Tierra de Castilla y León — and they are all the better for it.
Espantaburros Clarete
Co-fermented clarete — Peñaranda de DueroThe flagship and the manifesto. From 80–85-year-old vines in Peñaranda, with roughly 30% white grapes (primarily Albillo Mayor) and the rest red — mainly Tempranillo, with Garnacha and Bobal. Co-fermented, then aged around 12 months in old oak barrels where the wood is imperceptible. Just 12.5% alcohol, with a pH of 3.05 and 8.11 grams of acidity — extraordinary freshness for Ribera. Juicy, vibrant, delicate red fruit, lively acidity, and a floral, almost Pinot-like elegance. Aged in barrel but tastes of vineyard. The wine that justifies the T-shirt: Make Clarete Great Again.
Espantaburros Tinto
Field-blend red — Peñaranda de DueroA red sibling to the Clarete, from vineyards planted in 1950 in Peñaranda. A blend of Tempranillo, Garnacha, and Bobal from the same old, coplanted parcels. Hand-harvested, spontaneously fermented, aged in old oak. The wine is light in colour but deep in flavour — red cherry, wild strawberry, a touch of garrigue, and a savoury, mineral backbone that speaks of the clay-limestone soils. Fresh rather than heavy, transparent rather than opaque. A red wine that drinks with the agility of a clarete and the seriousness of a village Burgundy.
Viña de Carremolino
Single-vineyard field blend — Peñaranda de DueroFrom biodynamic plots in Peñaranda de Duero, cultivated with Tempranillo, Bobal, and Albillo Mayor. This is an old vineyard — some of it among the oldest César works — and the inclusion of white grapes (Albillo) means it cannot carry the DO. Deep, opaque cherry red in the glass. On the nose: subtle, sophisticated, red and black fruits, moist earth, and a whisper of the limestone beneath. On the palate: structured but not heavy, with the acidity and minerality that César demands. A wine of place, patience, and historical authenticity. Unfiltered, unfined, no additives.
Cinco Moyos
Single-vineyard red — FuentelcéspedA natural red of great character, born from a single 95-year-old vineyard in Fuentelcésped, on the sandy loam soils south of the Duero. The vines are bush-trained, dry-farmed, and biodynamically tended — a living archive of pre-industrial viticulture. The wine is fermented with indigenous yeasts and aged with minimal intervention. The sand gives it a lifted, aromatic profile: red berries, dried flowers, a touch of spice, and a long, mineral finish. It is the most Burgundian of César's wines — transparent, filigreed, and built around acidity rather than extraction. Extremely limited.
Cinco Leguas
Regional blend — Ribera BurgalesaThe regional expression of César's project — a blend that draws from multiple parcels across Fuentelcésped and Peñaranda, capturing the broader identity of the Ribera Burgalesa rather than a single site. It is the entry point to his range, but it is not simple: old vines, field blends, spontaneous fermentation, and the same four pillars of minerality, acidity, elegance, and austerity. A wine that proves César's Burgundian hierarchy works even at the regional level — and that honest Ribera does not need to be expensive to be profound.
Legacy — The Wine That Refuses the DO
César Fernández Díaz matters because he is reclaiming a lost Ribera — not the Ribera of 100-point scores and new French oak, but the Ribera of field blends, white grapes in red wine, and vines planted before the Spanish Civil War. In a region that has spent three decades homogenising itself into a monoculture of pure Tempranillo, César is farming vineyards where Bobal, Bastardo, Listán Prieto, and Albillo grow in happy chaos among the Tempranillo rows. He is making wines that the DO explicitly forbids — and he is making them better than most of what the DO permits.
His legacy is agricultural. By farming 1.8 hectares biodynamically, by applying 500P and nettle teas, by working the soil with a small tractor rather than a heavy machine, and by keeping yields minuscule through short pruning, he has preserved a piece of the Duero valley that would otherwise have been grubbed up for a more profitable, more uniform plantation. The 95-year-old vines of Cinco Moyos and the 80-year-old vines of Espantaburros are irreplaceable. Their roots descend through metres of sand and clay-limestone, tapping water and minerals that young vines cannot reach. When they die, a library dies with them. César is their archivist.
His legacy is also cultural. The clarete — that traditional rosé of co-fermented red and white grapes — was dismissed for decades as inferior, as bulk wine, as something to be drunk in summer and forgotten. César has made it age-worthy, serious, and sought-after. His Espantaburros Clarete is not a novelty. It is a wine of 12.5% alcohol, 8.11 grams of acidity, and 12 months in old oak. It is fresh enough for a Tuesday and complex enough for a cellar. By putting "Make Clarete Great Again" on a T-shirt, he has turned a forgotten style into a banner of resistance.
And his legacy is methodological. The Burgundian hierarchy — regional, village, lieu-dit, single vineyard — has never been applied systematically in Ribera del Duero. César is doing it. He is proving that the region has terroir, not just brand power. That Fuentelcésped tastes different from Peñaranda. That sandy loam produces different wine from clay-limestone. That a single vineyard of 95-year-old vines has something to say that a regional blend cannot. It is a model that other young producers in the region are beginning to follow. César was there first.
From the sandy south bank to the clay-limestone north, from the clarete that defies convention to the field blend that defies the DO, César Fernández Díaz is a testament to what happens when a viticultor decides that history is worth more than points, that diversity is worth more than purity, and that honesty is the only makeup a wine needs. "Que se embotelle un paisaje, que se beba unas viñas, una zona y una añada." Drink the vines. Drink the place. Drink the year.