There are wineries that arrive at a denomination to repeat a formula.
And there are others that arrive to listen.
Landua is born this way: as the way Alma Carraovejas decided to approach Rioja Alavesa: with respect, with patience, and with the humility of someone who arrives at a new place knowing that the landscape has more answers than people.
It all starts in small plots of old vines, in municipalities where viticulture has been marking the rhythm of life for centuries. Vines that coexist with northern light, with calcareous soils, and with an altitude that refines maturity until it becomes almost a whisper. Here Tempranillo doesn't seek to impose itself: it seeks to tell. And it does so with surprising clarity.
Landua—"worked land" in Basque—doesn't seek to resemble other Riojas or other wines from the house. It seeks to be faithful to the place. The winemaking is precise and respectful, with measured aging that accompanies the wine without imposing itself, letting the fruit, freshness, and texture be the protagonists.
In the glass, Landua is subtle and deep at the same time. It has tension, it has length, and above all, it has intention and something that's not always easy to find: coherence. It's a red that advances step by step, inviting you to return to it like someone returning to a familiar landscape to see it with new eyes.
An opportunity to approach Alma Carraovejas' gaze on Rioja: less talk, more landscape.
