The Bell, the Lizard & the Red That Refused to Be Red Alone
In Viñaspre and Lanciego, on the foothills of the Sierra Cantabria at 620-700 metres, Roberto Oliván farms 16 hectares of small, scattered parcels — some family, some acquired, all organic — making wines where red always contains white, the labels tell village stories, and a 2011 vintage still drinks gloriously.
Origin — 2011, the Scraps of Vine & the Bell That Chased the Cloud
Roberto Oliván did not set out to be famous. He did not have a master plan. He did not dream of being a winemaker. What he had was family vineyards — vines his parents and grandparents had tended in Viñaspre, a hamlet of Lanciego in Rioja Alavesa, on the eastern foothills of the Sierra Cantabria. And one day, around 2011, he simply said: "I'll try making wine." It worked. And it worked so well that within a few years, Tentenublo had gone from 3,500 bottles to 30,000 — a trajectory so rapid that the tax authorities suspected it was a phantom winery and sent an inspector. When the inspector saw real barrels, real activity, and a real man with dirt under his fingernails, he left satisfied. But the speed of it all still makes Roberto shake his head. "Things took off far too quickly. It happened to many of my peers. None of us wanted it to grow that fast, but it did."
The name Tentenublo comes from a word in the local Rioja dialect — the ringing of bells that villagers used to chase away hail clouds from the vineyards. On the label, a wide-eyed bell chases a cloud at full cartoon speed, musical notes trailing behind it. It looks playful. It is playful. But behind that label lies a deeply rooted village story. Roberto is not a marketer who discovered a cute name. He is a villager who grew up hearing the bells. The label is not decoration. It is memory made visible.
Roberto started with a handful of family vineyards. Then he began acquiring what he calls "scraps" of vines — small plots that nobody else wanted, parcels too steep or too old or too inconvenient for the big players. He now farms around 16 hectares grouped into more than thirty small parcels around Viñaspre and Lanciego, ranging from 15 to 110 years old. The vines are Tempranillo, Garnacha, Viura, Malvasía, Calagraño, Garnacha Gris, and even Monastrell — a field blend of varieties that reflects the old Rioja Alavesa before the monoculture of Tempranillo took over. He farms them all organically — certified since the 2020 vintage — and vinifies each parcel separately. The result is not a brand. It is a patchwork quilt of place.
Roberto is now in his early forties, married to Leyre — an essential part of Tentenublo — with two children, and a team of three people total. He has learned, sometimes painfully, that wine is not merely a project but a family and a business. He has learned to handle notoriety, cash flow, and his own intense emotions with more balance. But he has not lost the thing that made Tentenublo matter in the first place: an almost obsessive attachment to his vineyards, a refusal to be pushed around, and a transparency so absolute that major restaurants buy from him directly because they know his wines are consistent, personal, and honest.
The Place — The Sierra Cantabria, the Replanos & the 110-Year-Old Vines
Viñaspre and Lanciego sit at the eastern end of the Sierra Cantabria mountains, in the heart of Rioja Alavesa — a sub-zone of Rioja that is geographically Basque, culturally distinct, and viticulturally extraordinary. The altitude ranges from 620 to 700 metres, high enough to provide freshness in a region with strong Mediterranean influence. The soils are calcareous marl and sandstone — locally called replanos — tableland areas of distinctive limestone-rich earth that give the wines a vibrant mineral power and a capacity for ageing that defies the region's reputation for early-drinking crianzas. The climate is a collision of Atlantic and Mediterranean influences: cool nights, hot days, and a volatility that keeps Roberto permanently alert.
Thirty Small Parcels, 15 to 110 Years Old
Roberto's 16 hectares are not a single estate. They are a mosaic of more than thirty small parcels scattered around Viñaspre and Lanciego — some family land, some acquired from neighbours who had given up, some on steep slopes, some on gentle replanos. The vine age ranges from 15 to 110 years. The oldest vines — those in plots like Veriquete and San José — are not merely old. They are living archives of a Rioja Alavesa that existed before the industrial consolidation of the 1980s, when vineyards were mixed, bush-trained, and farmed by hand. Roberto has chosen to bottle many of these parcels separately, rejecting the Rioja tradition of blending everything into anonymity. Each parcel is a voice, and Roberto is the conductor who decides when each voice should sing alone.
Organic Certified, Biodynamic in Spirit
The vineyards are farmed organically — certified since the 2020 vintage — with a philosophy that Roberto describes as biodynamic in spirit even if he does not pursue certification. He invests heavily in viticulture, spending between €3,000 and €4,000 per hectare per year on maintenance — a figure that explains why so many neighbours have abandoned their vines. He ploughs traditionally, manages canopy by hand, and observes. The goal is not merely to avoid chemicals but to understand each parcel so intimately that intervention becomes unnecessary. When you farm thirty parcels, each with its own microclimate, soil, and vine age, you do not need a rulebook. You need patience and presence.
The White Grapes in Every Red
Roberto's most distinctive viticultural choice — and his most controversial — is his insistence that red wines always contain white grapes. In the old vineyards of Rioja Alavesa, white varieties like Viura and Malvasía were traditionally interplanted with reds, and the fruit was fermented together. The modern Rioja system separated them, creating a monoculture of Tempranillo that Roberto believes has stripped the region of its complexity. By including white grapes in his red blends — sometimes up to 40% white in a single wine — he restores a "chaotic" sensation to the centre of the palate: lightness, aromatic lift, and a freshness that pure Tempranillo cannot achieve. It is not a gimmick. It is history.
The Cosechero Model & the Refusal to Grow
Roberto is a cosechero — a grower who makes and sells his own wine — and he is ferociously protective of that identity. He produces around 40,000 bottles per year on average, and he does not want to grow. In good years, he might hit 60,000. In bad years — hail, drought — he drops to 20,000. He sells surplus grapes rather than overproduce. He has three employees and considers that exactly right. "Anyone who thinks they can survive with 5,000 bottles is dreaming," he says. "But anyone who thinks they need to grow forever is also dreaming." His model is work, work, and more work — hands-on management, few employees, and spending your days in the vineyard and winery. It is not romantic. It is sustainable.
Winemaking — Maturity & Freshness, the White in the Red & the Refusal of Homogenisation
Roberto's winemaking philosophy can be summed up in two words: maturity and freshness. He believes the two must go hand in hand — that a wine can be fully ripe without being overripe, structured without being heavy, fresh without being green. This is possible in Rioja Alavesa, he argues, because of the limestone soils, the elevation, and the Atlantic-Mediterranean collision that creates both warmth and acidity. But it is only possible if you work the vineyards properly and refuse every shortcut the modern wine industry offers.
He ferments with indigenous yeasts and uses limited sulphur — enough to protect the wine but never enough to dominate it. He ages in a combination of stainless steel, concrete, and French oak — the proportion of concrete has grown as he has invested more in equipment, but the style has remained consistent. "My style has always been the same," he insists. "I’ve always been crystal clear on that." The wines are not fined or filtered excessively. They are not manipulated with enzymes or selected yeasts. They are allowed to be what the parcel wants them to be — and if that means a 2011 Tentenublo still drinks gloriously after more than a decade, so be it.
Roberto is deeply critical of what he calls the "second homogenisation of taste" in wine. The first homogenisation, he argues, was the era of 200% oak, when every wine tasted like vanilla and toast regardless of origin. The second, he believes, is the current fashion for lightness confused with greenness — wines that are thin, acidic, and interchangeable, made by producers who travel endlessly, taste everything, and end up "contaminated" by other people's styles. Roberto refuses to participate. "Could I make lighter wines? Of course, tomorrow if I wanted. But the grapes wouldn't taste as they should. And without structure, wines can't age." He does not go to tastings. He does not chase trends. He drinks what he buys and enjoys at home, and he makes wine that belongs to Viñaspre — nowhere else.
The Escondite del Ardacho range — his single-vineyard bottlings — is the purest expression of this philosophy. Each wine comes from an identified old plot with tiny production, vinified separately, aged carefully, and bottled with a label depicting a local lizard dressed as a 19th-century gentleman. The packaging is elaborate: tissue paper, straw twine, a booklet of cards. It looks like theatre. But the wine inside is deadly serious — wines of remarkable acidity, minerality, and cellaring potential that have "scandalised wine judges" and swept awards across Europe. Roberto does not make these wines to please critics. He makes them because the parcels demand it.
The Wines — From the Village Red to the Lizard's Hideaway & the Family Tree
Tentenublo produces a focused but multi-layered range from the 16 hectares around Viñaspre and Lanciego — all organic, vegan-friendly, fermented with indigenous yeasts, and made with minimal sulphur. The range is divided into three families: the village and cosechero wines (Tentenublo and Xérico), the single-vineyard Escondite del Ardacho collection, and the cosechero-style Custero. Across them all, one finds the same commitment to maturity and freshness, the same inclusion of white grapes in red wines, and the same refusal to follow fashion. Production averages 40,000 bottles per year, though it fluctuates wildly with the vintage.
Tentenublo Tinto
Village red — Viñaspre & Lanciego, Rioja AlavesaThe flagship wine — ~20,000 bottles of a fresh, lively, and persistent red that captures the essence of Rioja Alavesa at its most honest. A field blend of Tempranillo, Garnacha, Viura, and Malvasía from various parcels around Viñaspre and Lanciego, fermented with indigenous yeasts and aged in a combination of stainless steel, concrete, and French oak. The white grapes contribute aromatic lift, lightness, and a "chaotic" freshness to the centre of the palate. The result is a wine of remarkable balance — ripe but not overripe, structured but not heavy, with cherry, plum, earth, and a mineral backbone that speaks directly to the limestone replanos. ~14-15% ABV. Minimal sulphur. Vegan.
Tentenublo Blanco
Barrel-fermented white — Viñaspre & Lanciego, Rioja AlavesaA barrel-fermented blend of Viura and Malvasía — ~5,400 bottles — made from white grapes that grow on the higher parts of Roberto's old vineyards, often interplanted with reds. Fermented and aged in French oak with indigenous yeasts and minimal sulphur. The wine is textured, saline, and complex — not the lean, neutral Viura of industrial Rioja, but a white of real depth and personality. Notes of lemon peel, white peach, almond, and a subtle oxidative nuttiness from the barrel. It is a wine that proves Rioja Alavesa can produce whites of genuine finesse — if you farm the vines properly and refuse to treat white grapes as an afterthought. ~13-14% ABV. Minimal sulphur. Vegan.
Tentenublo "Xérico"
Village red — Viñaspre & Lanciego, Rioja AlavesaA fruit-driven, village-style red — ~8,000 bottles — that pays homage to Roberto's grandfather, whose photograph appears on the label. Each vintage carries the picture of a different family member, creating a family tree in bottles — four generations of Oliván ancestors, from the first vigneron to Roberto himself. The wine comes from limestone soils and includes Viura grapes in the blend, contributing the same aromatic lift and freshness that defines all Tentenublo reds. It is juicy, approachable, and deeply personal — a wine that tastes like a family album smells. The label alone makes it one of the most emotionally resonant wines in Spain. ~14% ABV. Minimal sulphur. Vegan.
Tentenublo "Custero"
Cosechero red — Viñaspre & Lanciego, Rioja AlavesaA cosechero-style wine made from young vines planted with a carefully selected massal mix from Roberto's own vineyards — a deliberate attempt to revive the character of traditional Rioja before the era of clonal selection and industrial blending. With Garnacha as its backbone (60%), Tempranillo (20%), and both white and red grapes including Calagraño, Garnacha Gris, and even Monastrell, the wine is a field blend in the old style — chaotic, generous, and unmistakably of its place. Fermented naturally, aged in a mix of vessels, and bottled with minimal sulphur. It is a wine of pure village generosity — the kind of red that disappears at the table and leaves you wondering why Rioja ever stopped making wines like this. Minimal sulphur. Vegan.
Escondite del Ardacho "El Abundillano"
Single-vineyard red — Viñaspre, Rioja AlavesaThe most representative wine of the Ardacho range — from a plot of less than one hectare, producing ~1,600 bottles of extremely juicy Garnacha blended with 9% Tempranillo and some Malvasía. This is one of Roberto's favourite "living rooms" — a vineyard he knows intimately, where he spends hours simply observing. The wine is vibrant, floral, and almost impossibly drinkable — a Garnacha of remarkable purity that shows what the variety can achieve in Rioja Alavesa when it is farmed with obsession and bottled without compromise. The label depicts the Ardacho lizard — a local species — dressed as a 19th-century gentleman, hidden in tissue paper and twine. ~14-15% ABV. Minimal sulphur. Vegan.
Escondite del Ardacho "Las Guillermas"
Single-vineyard red — Lanciego, Rioja AlavesaFrom a 70-year-old vineyard in Lanciego planted with Tempranillo and Viura — the white grapes comprising up to 40% of the final blend. The resulting wine is extremely original — a red that drinks with the remarkable acidity and aromatic complexity of a white, yet retains the structure and depth of old-vine Tempranillo. It is a wine that has scandalised wine judges and swept awards — not because it is weird, but because it is true. The 40% Viura is not a quirk. It is the restoration of a tradition that the modern Rioja system erased. Aged in 500-litre French oak barrels. Minimal sulphur. Vegan. Great cellaring potential.
Escondite del Ardacho "Veriquete"
Single-vineyard red — Viñaspre, Rioja AlavesaSourced from a 0.41-hectare sandy plot in Viñaspre with vines aged between 50 and 110 years — a tiny, ancient vineyard that produces ~1,700 bottles of extraordinary concentration. A blend of Tempranillo (80%), Garnacha (10%), and white varieties (10%), with 60% destemmed grapes and the rest fermented with stems. Aged in 500-litre barrels for nine months. The result is a wine of freshness, subtlety, and captivating minerality — the sandy soil giving a particular silky texture and saline precision that heavier clay soils cannot replicate. It is a wine that demonstrates how soil, not oak, drives complexity when the vines are old enough and the farmer patient enough. ~14% ABV. Minimal sulphur. Vegan.
Escondite del Ardacho "San José"
Single-vineyard red — Lanciego, Rioja AlavesaThe latest addition to the Ardacho family — first released with the 2022 vintage, from a beautiful vineyard in Lanciego planted in 1952. An expressive, vibrant blend of 60% white grapes (equal parts Viura and Malvasía) with Tempranillo, all fermented with stems — a technique that adds structure, spice, and a wild, herbal complexity to the wine. The result is extraordinary even in a warm year — proof that old vines, high altitude, and limestone soils can produce wines of freshness and precision regardless of vintage conditions. Only 995 bottles. The label, like all Ardachos, is wrapped in tissue and twine, with a booklet of cards inviting the drinker into the lizard's world. ~13.5-14% ABV. Minimal sulphur. Vegan.
Tentenublo "Los Corrillos" & Limited Releases
Variable — Viñaspre, Rioja AlavesaRoberto's experimental edge — small-lot cuvées from the tiny parcels he has gradually acquired in Viñaspre, produced in quantities so limited they rarely leave Spain. Los Corrillos is a range of wines made from these acquisitions, on a similar price level to the Ardachos but even scarcer. The common thread across all limited releases is indigenous yeast, minimal sulphur, the inclusion of white grapes in reds, and total creative freedom guided by the parcel rather than the market. These wines are not always available. When they are, they are shared with the small community of collectors who have learned that Roberto's experiments are not fads but genuine inquiries into what Rioja Alavesa can be when freed from the DO straitjacket. Extremely limited.
Legacy — The Cosechero, the Never-Miss & the Boy Who Stayed in the Village
Tentenublo matters because it is one of the most complete and honest wine projects in Rioja — the work of a man who, without a master plan, without investors, and without ever leaving his village, has built a winery that produces wines of genuine maturity, freshness, and site-specific character from more than thirty small parcels in Rioja Alavesa. In a region where the DO system has homogenised taste, where cooperatives blend anonymity into tank farms, and where the big corporations "come in, buy, make money, and leave," Roberto Oliván has proven that a cosechero with three employees, 16 hectares, and an obsessive attachment to his vineyards can produce wines that major restaurants buy directly — because they know what is in the bottle, and they know it will be consistent.
His legacy is agricultural. By farming 16 hectares organically across more than thirty small parcels, by acquiring and restoring old vineyards that others had abandoned, by including white grapes in every red blend as the old Rioja Alavesa tradition demanded, and by spending €3,000-€4,000 per hectare per year on vineyard maintenance, Roberto has created a model for viticulture that is closer to peasant stewardship than to modern agronomy. His vines range from 15 to 110 years old. His soils are calcareous marl and sandstone — the replanos that give his wines their mineral signature. And his refusal to grow beyond 40,000 bottles is a statement of principle in a region drunk on expansion.
His legacy is also oenological. The Tentenublo Tinto — a village red with white grapes, aged in steel, concrete, and oak — is a wine of remarkable balance and consistency, capable of ageing 10+ years and still drinking gloriously. The Xérico — with its family-tree labels and its juicy, fruit-driven character — is one of the most emotionally resonant wines in Spain. The Escondite del Ardacho range — single-vineyard bottlings from plots like Abundillano, Las Guillermas, Veriquete, and San José — has scandalised wine judges and swept awards across Europe, proving that Rioja Alavesa can produce site-specific wines of the same complexity as Burgundy or Barolo. And the Custero — a cosechero-style field blend with Calagraño, Garnacha Gris, and Monastrell — is a deliberate resurrection of a lost tradition.
And his legacy is philosophical. Roberto is not interested in being a fad. He wants to be a "never miss" — a producer whose wines you can rely on, vintage after vintage, because the man behind them is present, honest, and rooted. He lives in Viñaspre, not Logroño. He shops at the local greengrocer, drinks coffee in the village bar, and raises his children in the same landscape his grandparents farmed. He is critical of the "empty Spain" marketing that uses rural revival as a sales pitch without actually employing local people or investing in villages. He is critical of social media obsession in wine. He is critical of the second homogenisation of taste — the current fashion for lightness that strips wine of its character. And he is critical of himself — constantly questioning, constantly learning, constantly refining.
From the 3,500-bottle first vintage to the 40,000-bottle present, from the tax inspector's suspicion to the three-Michelin-star restaurant's trust, from the grandfather's photograph on the Xérico label to the lizard in a top hat on the Ardacho, Tentenublo is a testament to what happens when a man decides that the vineyard is older than the appellation, that the village is truer than the city, and that the best way to make wine is to stay home, work hard, and let the parcels speak. The bell still rings. The cloud still runs. And the drinker is transformed.