The Scot, the Italian & the Cat with Iron Teeth
Born in Scotland to Italian parents, Fabio Bartolomei moved to Madrid and started making wine in 2003 as a hobby — in garages, stables, and borrowed spaces. A decade later he took over the bankrupt village co-op in El Tiemblo, a 1959 stone cathedral with capacity for two million litres, and began making 20,000. No chemicals. No additives. No certification. No consistent brand. Just a one-man operation that has become one of the most distinctive voices in Spanish natural wine.
Origin — The Garages, the Co-op & the Refined Drinking
Fabio Bartolomei was born and raised in Scotland, the son of Italian immigrants from Barga and Sommocolonia in Tuscany. His parents called it "refined drinking" — a household tradition of wine as culture, as pleasure, as a way of being in the world. That inheritance — Scottish practicality, Italian sensuality — would prove the perfect combination for what came next.
He moved to Madrid over twenty years ago, and in 2003 he decided to pursue a personal interest in winemaking. He leased a small plot of Airén from an old winemaker in Carabaña, a village about 50 kilometres southeast of Madrid, and began making wine in people's garages and any space he could borrow in and around Madrid and the Sierra de Gredos. He had no formal training. He had no investors. He had a blog, a wheelbarrow, and a conviction that wine should taste like the place it came from.
For a decade, Vinos Ambiz existed in limbo — made here, stored there, bottled in borrowed corners. Then, in 2013, the old village wine co-operative in El Tiemblo went bankrupt. Fabio rented the building — a beautiful stone structure built in 1959 with a capacity for two million litres — and moved his entire operation inside. He now makes roughly 20,000 litres a year in a space designed for a hundred times that volume. The contrast is not lost on him. The cathedral is his. The congregation is small.
Since then, Fabio has become one of the most articulate and visible figures in the Spanish natural wine movement. His blog — vinosambiz.blogspot.com — is a chronicle of vineyard work, cellar experiments, political rants, and philosophical musings. He is a regular at RAW Wine and natural wine fairs across Europe. And he has inspired a generation of Madrid drinkers through his association with Bendito Vinos y Vinilos, the legendary Lavapiés bar that helped shape the city's natural wine scene. He is, by his own description, an outsider artist — self-taught, self-funded, and utterly ungovernable.
The Place — The Granite, the Pine Forest & the Chestnut Grove
El Tiemblo sits in the Sierra de Gredos, roughly an hour west of Madrid, at the edge of the province of Ávila. The climate is brutally continental — scorching summers, freezing winters — but the altitude and the granite soils give the wines a freshness and mineral clarity that have made Gredos one of Spain's most exciting natural wine frontiers. Fabio farms six small vineyards himself and buys grapes from local growers under strict conditions.
Six Vineyards, Six Stories
Fabio tends six plots around El Tiemblo and one in Villarejo de Salvanés (Madrid): La Dehesa (0.25ha Garnacha), El Castañar (0.8ha Garnacha, named for the famous chestnut forest nearby), a Doré parcel (0.5ha), Charco del Cura (0.6ha Albillo), and a Chelva/Garnacha field blend. The original Carabaña vineyard (1ha, 60-year-old Airén and Tempranillo) still produces. Each vineyard has its own character, its own problems (deer, drought, rock roses), and its own voice in the final blend.
Granite, Sand & Low Nutrients
The soils of Sierra de Gredos are granitic and sandy, free-draining and poor in organic matter. The granite is crumbly — you can break it into grains with your fingers — and the sand retains heat, favouring ripening while the altitude preserves acidity. The low nutrient content forces the vines to work harder, increasing complexity and minerality. It is not an easy place to farm. It is a place that demands respect and patience.
No Chemicals, No Certification
Fabio is explicit: "I am not certified organic because I believe that the polluter should pay, not we clean farmers." He uses no pesticides, no herbicides, no fungicides, no insecticides, and no chemical fertilisers. He allows all grasses, plants, and flowers to grow freely. In winter, he allows sheep to enter the vineyards to eat the grass and leave their manure. The vineyards are a chaos of biodiversity — pines, rock roses, wildflowers, and the occasional deer that sneaks through the fence.
The Grower Network
Beyond his own vines, Fabio buys grapes from local growers under strict conditions: no pesticides, harvesting in small crates, and Fabio chooses the harvest date. He sources Albillo, Sauvignon Blanc, Tempranillo, Garnacha, Chelva, and Doré from neighbours who share his philosophy. One of them, an 84-year-old named José, patrols the rows during harvest like a policeman, berating pickers for missed bunches and calling them "holgazanes inutiles" — useless loafers. Fabio finds this hilarious.
Winemaking — Just Crush, Press & Rack
Fabio's cellar philosophy is as direct as his vineyard practice: "I don't add any additives or substances at all to my wines. I believe in minimum intervention, in order to express the terroir most faithfully. I just crush, press and rack the wines. I don't filter or fine." This is not rhetoric. It is a technical description of what actually happens in the 1959 co-op.
All fermentations are spontaneous, carried out by the indigenous yeasts that live on the grape skins. Fabio uses a mix of vessels — stainless steel tanks, tinajas (clay pots), and old barrels — depending on the wine and the vintage. He is not dogmatic about material. He is dogmatic about not doing anything. The wines are racked, aged, and bottled without fining, without filtration, and without a single milligram of added sulphur.
The result is a range of wines that are alive, sometimes unpredictable, and always expressive. Some bottles may show a touch of reduction or volatility. Others are pristine and crystalline. All of them carry the stamp of the vineyard, the vintage, and Fabio's refusal to correct what nature has given him. He is candid about the risks: "I don't have enough time! Ever since I got fired from my day-job I've been working full-time either in the vineyards or in the bodega." But he would not have it any other way.
Fabio is also an experimentalist. He has made wine based on Pliny the Elder's recipes — a "Roman Slave Juice" macerated for months according to ancient Roman methods. He has explored carbonic maceration, pet nats, and ancestral sparklings. He has manually crushed and pressed entire harvests just to see if it makes a difference. And he has strong opinions about pumps: "Even the smallest pumps are too fast and can somehow affect the wine... I don't need to move that much wine that fast."
The Wines — From the Albillo Cathedral to the Cat with Iron Teeth
Vinos Ambiz produces roughly 30,000 bottles a year across twelve different varieties — a bewildering diversity for a one-man operation. Because Fabio is not a member of any Denominación de Origen, he is legally forbidden from writing the vintage, grape variety, or village name on the front label. His solution is characteristically subversive: each wine has its own unique label — Art Nouveau, Gothic, punk — and the vintage and grape are "encoded" in the lot number on the back. "Lot Number: L-Temperanillo16." Spot the deliberate spelling mistake.
Alba
Albillo Real — Sierra de Gredos100% Albillo Real — the insignia grape of Sierra de Gredos, after Garnacha. Difficult to source because it is also prized as a table grape, ripens early, and is the birds' preferred snack. Fabio ferments it in stainless steel and tinaja with indigenous yeasts. The result is a white wine of remarkable complexity and perfume: white flowers, quince, honey, and a waxy, almost Burgundian texture. Not to be confused with Albillo Mayor, which Fabio dismisses as "not nearly so interesting or aromatic." Alba is the white that put Vinos Ambiz on the map. Unfiltered, no additives.
Doris
Chasselas Doré — Sierra de GredosChasselas Doré — originally from Switzerland, somehow established in Sierra de Gredos a few hundred years ago, making it effectively native. Locally it is called simply Doré (without the Chasselas), hence the name Doris. There are not many vineyards left; most are around Cebreros, and most growers send their fruit to the local co-op where it is mixed into anonymity. Fabio ferments it with two days of skin contact in stainless steel. The result is a wine of delicate floral perfume, stone fruit, and a mineral, almost alpine freshness — a ghost of Switzerland haunting the Castilian plateau. Extremely limited. No filtration, no sulphur.
La Gatta Mormigliana
Tempranillo — Sierra de GredosThe flagship red and the most unmistakable label in the range. Named after a Tuscan folktale Fabio's father recited to him as a child: "La Gatta Mormigliana, coi denti de ferro ei baffi d'acciaio... Viveva in una grotta profonda e diceva: 'Chi vien giù lo mangio.'" The cat with iron teeth and steel whiskers, who lived in a deep cave and said: "If you come in, I'll eat you." The wine is 100% Tempranillo, deep and dark, with an evolving nose that moves from funk and grass to deep cherry, dark plum, coriander, cloves, and licorice. On the palate: sweet cherry, raisin, prune, and a toasty, almost bitter edge like pecan hulls. It keeps changing in the glass — smooth, romantic, and utterly unexpected from a monster cat nightmare. Unfiltered, no additives.
El Castañar
Garnacha — Sierra de GredosFrom the 0.8-hectare Garnacha vineyard on the road to the famous El Castañar de El Tiemblo — the chestnut forest that draws hikers from across Castilla. The vines are about 50 years old, surrounded by pine forest and rock roses, and produce a classic, structured red. Fermented with indigenous yeasts and aged in old barrels. In good years Fabio gets four or five barrels (roughly 1,500 bottles); in drought years, like 2020, only one barrel (300 bottles). The wine is transparent, mineral, and deeply Gredos: red berry fruit, wild herbs, granite dust, and a long, savoury finish. A wine of place and of patience. Unfiltered, no sulphur.
Coupage
Garnacha-Tempranillo blend — Sierra de GredosA field blend of Garnacha and Tempranillo from the old vineyards around El Tiemblo. Fermented together, aged together, bottled together. The Garnacha provides the perfume — red cherry, wild strawberry, garrigue — while the Tempranillo adds structure, earth, and a darker, more brooding core. It is the village wine of the range: accessible, honest, and deeply representative of the Sierra de Gredos terroir. Medium-bodied, with lively acidity and the kind of juicy drinkability that improves with a slight chill. Unfiltered, no additives.
Booster / This Is The Rhythm Of The Nat
Pet Nat — Sierra de GredosFabio's pet nat — an ancestral-method sparkling wine bottled before primary fermentation is complete, allowing it to finish in the bottle on its own lees. Cloudy, vigorous, and joyfully irregular. The base wine changes with the vintage — sometimes Albillo, sometimes a blend of white varieties — but the character is constant: wildflowers, citrus, herbs, and a chalky mineral backbone from the granite soils. It fizzes with foam when opened and tastes like a Gredos spring morning. Bottled under crown cap, undisgorged, unfiltered. The party wine of the range and a staple at Madrid's natural wine bars. No added sulphites.
Airén
The original plot — Carabaña, MadridFrom the original 1-hectare vineyard in Carabaña — the plot that started it all in 2003. 60-year-old Airén vines, the most planted white grape in Spain and usually dismissed as bulk-wine material. Fabio treats it with respect: hand-harvested, spontaneously fermented, unfiltered. The result is a white wine of surprising character — herbal, citrus-driven, with a textural weight that belies the grape's reputation. It is a wine that proves Airén can be interesting when farmed with care and made without manipulation. A testament to Fabio's belief that no variety is inherently boring — only farming and winemaking can make it so. No additives.
Chelva & Villanueva
Rare native whites — Sierra de GredosFrom two of the rarest native varieties in the Sierra de Gredos. Chelva is an obscure white that survives in a few old vineyards around El Tiemblo; Villanueva is even rarer. Fabio ferments them separately or in field blends, depending on the vintage, with the same zero-intervention approach. The wines are wild, herbal, and deeply individual — not polished, not commercial, but alive with the kind of character that only forgotten grapes can provide. They are experiments, archival projects, and liquid arguments for viticultural diversity. Extremely limited. No filtration, no sulphur.
Roman Slave Juice
Experimental — Sierra de GredosThe most experimental wine in the range — made according to recipes from Pliny the Elder's De Naturae. Fabio macerates the grapes for extended periods (sometimes months) and presses them according to ancient Roman methods. The result is a wine that is divisive, historical, and utterly unique — a liquid archaeology project that tastes like no other wine in Spain. It is not made every year. When it is, it sells out immediately to collectors and curiosity-seekers. A reminder that Fabio is not just a winemaker but a viticultural historian with a sense of humour and a willingness to fail. No additives, no filtration.
Legacy — The Outsider, the Blogger & the Two-Million-Litre Cathedral
Vinos Ambiz matters because it is the most singular one-man operation in Spanish natural wine — a project with no investors, no employees, no certification, no DO membership, and no consistent brand identity, yet one that has influenced a generation of drinkers and makers from Madrid to Barcelona to London. Fabio Bartolomei is not a winemaker in the conventional sense. He is a writer, a painter, a farmer, a historian, and a provocateur who happens to make extraordinary wine.
His legacy is agricultural. By farming six small vineyards in the Sierra de Gredos without chemicals, by allowing sheep to graze in winter, by fighting deer and rock roses with his bare hands, and by buying grapes from neighbours under strict no-pesticide conditions, he has preserved a patchwork of old viticulture that would otherwise have been lost to co-op anonymity. The Albillo Real of Charco del Cura, the Chasselas Doré of Cebreros, the Chelva and Villanueva that almost no one else bottles — these are not commercial varieties. They are cultural artefacts, and Fabio is their curator.
His legacy is also cultural. The labels — each one a different style, each one designed by Fabio or commissioned from artists he admires — are a rebellion against the homogenisation of wine branding. La Gatta Mormigliana, with its Art Nouveau cat and its Tuscan folktale, is instantly recognisable. Alba and Doris have their own distinct personalities. There is no "Vinos Ambiz look." There is only Fabio's taste, which shifts and evolves like the wines themselves. It is probably bad marketing. It is undeniably good art.
And his legacy is philosophical. Fabio's refusal to certify organic — "the polluter should pay, not we clean farmers" — is a political position that has influenced how natural winemakers across Spain think about certification. His blog, with its mix of technical detail, political rant, and personal anecdote, has demystified natural wine for thousands of readers. His presence at Bendito Vinos y Vinilos helped create Madrid's natural wine culture. His advice to newcomers — "try a lot of them, from different producers, be open-minded, forget anything you may have learned from experts" — is the manifesto of a movement.
From the garages of Carabaña to the two-million-litre cathedral of El Tiemblo, from the Swiss ghost of Chasselas Doré to the iron-toothed cat of Tuscany, Vinos Ambiz is a testament to what happens when one person decides that wine is culture, not commerce, that terroir is worth more than points, and that the best label is the one that tells a story. "El vino siembra poesía en los corazones." Even in a cathedral built for two million litres, the poetry is in the 20,000 that matter.