Every Sunday, with a little more of an educational edge, I explore specific appellations or sub-regions, taking you along for the ride. If you’ve learned about or traveled to these regions in the past, this will be an opportunity for you to brush up on some fading facts and if it’s uncharted territory, why not learn something new? If you’re already an expert or you call this region home, then feel free to comment and share your experiences with everyone. Check out past Sunday posts here.

What did you say?? Irouléguy! It’s pronounced something like [ee-roo-leh-GEE], in case you’re finding it challenging as well.

Southwest France as a wine region is a bit of a catchall. It’s used to cover all the scattered pockets of vineyards stretching south of Bordeaux to the Spanish border. These B and C-level celebrities (some of which were once big ticket stars), include the likes of Cahors, Gaillac, Jurançon, Madiran, Bergerac, and our focus, Irouléguy. They all vary in soil, grape varietals and climate, and are grouped together for little more than convenience.

(Click the map for a giant version with corresponding legend)

The French certified and controlled appellation of Irouléguy AC sits alone on the Spanish border within the Basque Country. This is a separate cultural region which lies for the most part in Northern Spain, but also overlaps into France. The people speak their own language, have brought us great culinary joy, and are credited with inventing the beret. I love parts of the Spanish Basque region more than most places I’ve been to on the planet, but their language is about as complex as Greek would be if you eliminated half the vowels. Most words have way too many ‘X’s and ‘K’s in them for me to make sense of. One good example is how they take the sensibly named grape varietal Petit Manseng and called it Izkiriota Ttipia; another being their deliciously bright and slightly fizzy wine Txakoli, which is poured with flare and guzzled by the tumbler in the Spanish tapas bars. Staying clear of the Basque translations, the grapes they grow in Irouléguy are Tannat, Cabernet Franc and Cabernet Sauvignon for the reds with Petit Manseng, Gros Manseng and Courbu for the whites.

Txakoli pouring in Northern Spain and not typically how you should serve Irouléguy

The vineyards of Irouléguy, and much of Southwest France for that matter, have struggled over the past 150 years with the devastation of phylloxera and the lack of farm workers because of war and loss of local industry. It has just been during the last few decades that vineyard area has steadily climbed and now sits at 200 hectares (500 acres); still a very modest size. Almost the entire production of wine, around 85%, comes from one cooperative called the Cave Coopérative d’Irouléguy. There are fewer than 10 independent vignerons making wine here. Most vines are planted on steep, terraced slopes on complex red soils made from some combination of sand, clay, schist and iron. The climate is temperate with hot and dry summers.

Domaine Ilarria is run by Peio Espil and is one of the top producers from a sparse collection of domaines. The steep vineyard, mostly planted to Tannat with some Cabernet Sauvignon and Franc, is only 6 hectares and is farmed by Peio organically.

Domaine Ilarria 06

Right out of the bottle this medium weight beauty had some interesting characters that added complexity to the base of red and purple berry fruits. Leather, smoke (which specifically and oddly smelled to me like campfire), a mix of Moroccan spices and black pepper. Powerful acidity, a welcomed bite of tannins and a decent length. This is delicious and interesting wine and at $15, it’s also great value. In SF you can find it at William Cross and K&L.

Value that will keep me trying new Irouléguy wines whenever I get the chance.

As always, please feel free to contribute any information, experience or tasting notes that you feel are relevant and check back next Sunday. Check out past Sunday posts here.