These days it seems we want more authenticity, especially when we eat and drink. Yet, when it comes to wine, international grapes can seem ubiquitous, especially in the New World. Luckily countries like Italy and Spain have plenty of distinctive native varieties, but in truth these varieties are not always promoted with as much enthusiasm as they might be, perhaps because sometimes they are seen as inferior.

Sometimes, due to appellation and denomination labelling, the varieties themselves are lesser known. Ask the average consumer to name a Spanish grape and I’ll bet good money many people would answer “Rioja”. And despite Spain’s long established reputation as the source of generous red wines, I wouldn’t be surprised if the first Spanish grape they could name might be Albariño. Chances are, if our average drinker could name a red Spanish grape, it might be Tempranillo, now the country’s most widely planted grape and source of many of its most notable reds. So I’d like to explore a grape that is a little less well known, arguably both known and unknown: Garnacha.

Spain’s third most planted red variety and in the top 10 globally, Garnacha, hides to some extent, in plain sight. Famously, under the name Grenache in France, it is given due recognition as one of the holy trinity of Rhône grapes, a key component of Châteauneuf-du-Pape, Gigondas and other southern Rhône blends, with its Spanish roots discreetly ignored. In Sardinia they might allow a Spanish origin for Cannonau, but might also suggest it’s not quite the same thing as Garnacha or indeed, it really is an Italian grape.

Garnacha’s drought resistance, suitability for dry-farming and long-lived vines are other virtues that have perhaps been undervalued too. Its vines produce year after year, with minimal fuss, becoming part of the landscape, rather than demanding attention. Yet as we face the challenges of climate change these virtues are becoming more important both in terms of viability and sustainability and in terms of sheer wine excellence.

The re-invention of the Priorat zone certainly brought us wines that demanded attention. Here for the first time were serious Spanish wines made substantially from Garnacha. Many, though not all, were grown at higher altitudes, with old vines a rediscovered gift from the past. More recently we have seen considerable excitement with the emergence of new areas like Sierra de Gredos, an area in central Spain where three regions – Madrid, Castile & León and Castile La Mancha – meet. Comprised of a number of denominations of origin including DO Vinos de Madrid and DO Méntrida, we can find Garnacha vines planted at up to 1250 metres.

Aragón however, remains the heartland and likely birthplace of Garnacha, whose presence there can be traced back at least 500 years. Here we find several of the most important Garnacha-producing zones in Spain. The three most significant are DO Cariñena with 4,400 hectares of Garnacha, DO Campo de Borja, with almost 4,000 hectares and DO Calatayud with 2,000 hectares. In the late twentieth century many old vines in Spain were uprooted because of economics and labour difficulties, but within these three zones a wealth of old vine material has survived.

Cariñena, the largest of Aragón’s DOs and somewhat confusingly named after the Cariñena grape, has Garnacha dominant in its vineyards. The vineyards run from the River Ebro up to the Sierra de Algairén mountains and are mostly fairly high altitude (400-800m). The climate is continental with growers facing the extremes of hot, dry summers and cold winters with the additional seasonal challenges of high winds and hail. The wine industry here is in flux; an area where co-operatives have traditionally dominated is now seeing the rise of quality focused, estate producers. Here the name Navascués means something in wine. Local scion Jorge Navascués is famous across Spain for his winemaking skills at a number of wineries, not least Contino in Rioja. But before him, his father Jesús Navascués – also the son of a winemaker – had been making wine, at various cooperatives, not least at San Juan Bautista de Cariñena, where annually he turned 12 million kilograms of grapes into wine at the co-operative. Jorge started out making wine at the Cariñena co-operative, then at Pago de Aylés, the first Pago wine in Aragón and one of only 15 Pagos legally recognized in Spain and later at the groundbreaking Viña Zorzal in Navarra.