I still remember the night I opened the 2016 Monteflores Reserva. It wasn’t a ceremony — just a weekday dinner, a small cast-iron skillet, and a stubbornly late delivery of fresh chorizo. But as soon as the cork came out and the first breath of the wine hit the glass, the whole evening sharpened.
On the nose
Dark cherry and plum arrive first, but not the jammy sort – more like fruit you’d find at a market stall in late October, slightly sun-warmed and still tangy. Underneath that there’s a faint note of cedar and tobacco, the kind that suggests the wine spent honest time in oak, not an overworked cooper’s showpiece.
On the palate
It’s medium-full, with a pleasantly grainy tannin that keeps your mouth busy without shutting everything down. Black fruit on the mid-palate, a hit of bitter chocolate at the back, and a balancing lift of orange zest on the finish. It’s the sort of finish that lingers long enough to plan the next bite of food.
Food pairing
We had it with the chorizo (obvious, perhaps), but it actually sang next to roasted carrots glazed with a little honey and smoked paprika. If you’re serving something heartier — think braised short ribs or a mushroom ragù — decant it for 45–60 minutes. It wakes up and becomes more expansive, the tannins softening into something almost velvety.
Why keep a bottle like this?
It’s versatile. It’s not a show-off, but it rewards small rituals: a good decant, a slow bite, a conversation that wanders. For anyone building a small cellar, the Monteflores Reserva is one of those bottles that proves utility and pleasure can coexist. I usually buy a case and open one each season — it tells you something about the passage of time in a way that supermarket wine rarely will.