Adega Lucas Lopes Amaral
My son is the youngest vigneron in the whole of the Azores Archipelago.
This is the first thing Sandra tells us about Lucas, with a flourish of healthy maternal pride.
If I could turn back time, I would choose to return to Pico under a summer sun.
"Breathe in slowly. Hold it. Now release," I say to Simona (and to myself) as we stand watching the Atlantic breaking against Pico's basalt coast less than 100 metres away. The salt spray carried on the wind dries on our skin as, with our eyes closed and lungs full, we inhale. The sensation is one of exquisite serenity.
I am reminded of a phrase of Filipe Rocha: "Welcome to the Azores, where mornings like these make the troubles of the world feel far away."
Lying upon a wooden bench at Lucas Lopes Amaral's Adega, a glass of Esboçopódio Verdelho in hand, Simona and I experience the perfect combination of awe and satisfaction as, far out at sea, sailboats tack across the horizon.
Esboçopódio Verdelho is one of six wines made and bottled by this Adega. Try them, they are all different, each one striking in its own way.
The view from the clearing in front of Lucas Lopes Amaral's Adega is an open invitation to slow down one’s pace of life. It is difficult to conceive of a more fitting property to the arid and desolate Pico: a rustic cottage perched atop on the windy coast of Campo Raso, 12 km south of Madalena. Modelled on a classic Azores dwelling, the Adega has typical lava stone walls and high-pitched roofs that protect the veranda from the elements. A rustic familiarity pervades the place, with hollowed-out timbers, renovated antiques and a breath-taking view.
Lost in my reveries, I am brought back to the real world by the sound of footsteps behind me.
Lucas approaches accompanied by his mother, Sandra.
The handshake is powerful, and whilst his gaze betrays a certain shyness, his smile is wide and spontaneous. The hands I shake are not the hands of a 21-year-old: these are the hands of a man accustomed to hard toil and labour.
Sandra explains that she will be our host today because Lucas does not speak English very well. The woman standing before us exudes pragmatism, fieriness and a healthy dose of maternal pride that erupts when she tells us that her son "Lucas is the youngest ever vigneron in the entire Azores archipelago."
"It all began some three years ago," Sandra recounts, "when Lucas was not even nineteen.
He was studying to become a vigneron in the small town of Mirandela in northern Portugal, and in the meantime, he was working at Antonio Maçanita's estate in the Douro Valley to learn the winemaking trade. While for generations our family had harvested grapes to sell to local producers but never embarked upon its own production, Lucas saw a different future for himself.
The arrival of Covid convinced my husband and I to ask Lucas to anticipate his return to Pico in exchange for the opportunity to start his own Adega."
Now, a mere three years since making that courageous choice, Lucas is considered the present and the future of Pico and his wines are internationally recognised.
If Sandra appears somewhat moved, Lucas seems to feel slightly embarrassed. His smile and posture betray his discomfort at finding himself at the centre of the conversation.
I too, am in turn, moved. The musicality of the Portuguese language is hypnotic, it transmits joy and takes me back to trips to Brazil as a child in the company of my father. There is the memory of his voice, capable of reproducing a perfect Brazilian cadence. There is the reminiscence of his Portuguese friends, for whom I was not Gunter but Dudu.
The Portuguese language is my own, personal time machine. And it is one that, of late, I have been lucky enough to travel in with a certain regularity. Ever since Simona introduced me to Marina, an extraordinary friend of hers from São Paulo, I have been able to enjoy hearing her Brazilian sonorities every time we have met.
Unfortunately, the only word I am able to convincingly reproduce is 'obrigado' (thank you) and so I am apt to dish it out as if it were the solution to everything.
Here, for example, my continuous 'obrigado' runs in time with the sound of the surf breaking and acts as a backdrop to the cheerful and satisfied collective chatter, as the table extends to welcome, alongside the products of Lucas's labours, some local cheeses, honey and jams as accompaniments to the wines.
The total production of Lucas' Adega is around 13,000. A modest number and one that is not consistent due to the adverse weather conditions that often befall the island and affect its crops.
We are off to a great start with Esboçopódio Verdelho. This is the wine that completely embodies the personality of the island and the D.O.Pico acronym consecrates its unique link with its homeland. Uniquely one of a kind, since it is not related to any other Verdelho that one hears of, this truly is the one and only Verdelho of the island of Pico. Needless to say, Simona and I are completely bowled over by it. Decisive, pure and minerally, with a hint of grapefruit and the salts that tantalise the palate confirming its oceanic origin
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Esboçopódio Arinto dos Açores is saltier, fresher, more savoury, more acidic. It is described as the wine that people expect to find here in Pico. That's as maybe. However, I wasn’t expecting it, and looking at Simona's bewildered expression, neither was she.
Cadmarvor Fernão Pires is more unique than rare in a literal sense. Fernão Pires is a mainland grape that has miraculously taken root here on the island of Pico, and Lucas is the only grower who has one. This wine is also all about 'more'. Softer than the previous one. Sweeter. More delicate.
Cadmarvor Branco de Uvas Tintas is Adega's other unicum: a white wine made from red grapes of Merlot, Syrah and Cabernet Sauvignon. But it is neither the white nor the red that makes its mark on the bottle, rather the blue, in honour of the flag of the Azores Islands.
"How are these wines all so different from each other?" I ask. Sandra speaks again: “Because the grapes used to make them are all different, and the areas of Pico where their vineyards are located are also varied: São Mateus, Criacão Velha and Candelária. The storms that hit the island during the winter, don't carry the ocean into the vineyards in a uniform way and that's why you have such a variety of acidity, flavour and minerality."
As if it had just flashed through her mind, when it was clearly an idea conceived and planned for some time, Sandra adds: "And whilst we're on the subject, let's take the pick-up and go and see the vineyards of São Mateus. Lucas's dad is working on some currais in an area we have just reclaimed, so, that before we leave, you can see how we work here”.
No sooner said than done: we jump into the pick-up and head off in the direction of São Mateus.
Outside the window, Pico is arid and almost extra-terrestrial.
It is hard to believe that life can emerge from these lands.
Simona sparks a memory: "Mordor! It looks like the lands of Mordor from The Lord of the Rings!"
And indeed, the bones found amongst the vines immediately harken us back to the wastelands described by J.R.R. Tolkien.
Although it may not have the grand hotels of the Portuguese coast, the elegant sophistication of Comporta or the splendour of Lisbon, this island is incredibly rich in spirit.
There is an attractiveness in its gritty determination and that of its inhabitants.
And strangely, for islanders, they are all extremely sociable. They smile, seem to know a secret they don't want to reveal and have a 'no problem, let's carry on' lifestyle.
When we arrive, Lucas' father is busy at work, rebuilding the currais by hand, stone by stone. They form veritable labyrinths that, like meridians and parallels on a map, carve up the land's descent down to the ocean, along a hillside made even more brutal by the desolation of the landscape itself. Lucas hastily takes his leave and lopes off to help his father. As if our visit had so far kept him from the only thing that matters: his duties.
Sandra tells us to pay no heed to the fish bones littering the path, "The smell keeps the rabbits away!"
As the men of the Amaral family bend, lift, position and bend again, Sandra says: "Look at their hands. The stones have completely erased the fingerprints. That is the price you pay for working this land."
This island produces men for whom there is little time for boyhood. Testing their mettle, it hardens and forges them into men of few words, unused to complaining.
Men like Lucas.
Ladies and Gentlemen: the 21-year-old vigneron Lucas Lopes Amaral!
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