Let’s uncork the uniqueness of Chilean wine history, from early colonial vines to modern-day successes, including the rediscovery of Carménère.

“Quickly, bring me a beaker of wine, so that I may wet my mind and say something clever.”

Aristophanes

For this one we’re jumping in the way-back machine. Let’s talk Chilean wine history!

Don’t worry though, not super dense history. I just want to give you a broad understanding of how vines got to this country. It will be quick and painless, and then we can go back to enjoying some wine!

Everyone Expects the Spanish Conquistadores

Every 4^th of September Chile celebrates its National Wine Day because, you see, it was the date on a letter that Pedro de Valdivia wrote to the Emperor Charles V asking for “vines and wine to evangelize Chile” in 1545.

You might want a little context, or at least find out who’s who in that missive and why it matters. First let’s talk about Charles V, who was the emperor of the Holy Roman Empire, archduke of Austria, Lord of the Netherlands, and King of Spain. So, yeah, kind of a big deal. Now let’s look at the sender. Pedro de Valdivia was the first governor of Chile, but more importantly he led the conquistadores’ incursion into Chile. He founded La Serena[i] (where he wrote the letter), and Santiago, Chile’s capital city.

And speaking of the letter, let’s circle back to it. Pedro de Valdivia asked for and the King granted vines and wine[ii]. Sure, evangelization was a significant part of Spain’s colonization efforts, but let’s not kid ourselves, colonists also consumed alcohol recreationally. So, this letter is important because Spain sent vines to Chile, where they grew well and winemakers turned them into excellent wines. That helped kickstart the whole industry!

Vines to Make Wine, and Not Only to Evangelize

But what wine were they making back then? The most common imported grape was Listán Prieto, but we know it by different names in the New World: Criolla in Perú and Argentina, Misión in México and in the United States[iii], and País in Chile. Without modern winemaking techniques, and possibly because they were planting it in inadequate terroirs, the final product was likely lacking in quality.

Colonial[iv] winemakers mostly made wine from red grape varieties and did not aged them in wood, but kept it in clay jars. It would spoil quickly, often within a few weeks, so people commonly flavored it after a several days. Flavorings were seasonal and included dill, citrus zest, anis, fruits, and even celery. Oftentimes they added a concentrated wine syrup called arrope to make it taste more like wine[v]. Other common colonial wines included those made with Muscat—called Moscatel in Spanish—grapes picked late so that they are dehydrated and full of sugar. Sweet wine was all the rage in Spain during the 16^th and 17^th centuries.

Colonial wines were not great, but they still made enough of a splash that that the Spanish Crown benned its production twice[vi] to avoid competition. Naturally, Spain wanted to sell their wines to the colonies, not the other way around. The ban wasn’t very successful, though, and wine production continued to grow in Chile, which was fortunate, because the industry really grew in the first few decades of the new republic.

When You Have Terroir, But Don’t Know What to Do. Who You Gonna Call?

The French. You’re mostly calling the French.

The wine industry grew stagnant during the late colonial times. Vinification practices and technological advancement were minimal. That all changed after Chile gained its independence during the first half of the 19^th century. Chilean entrepreneurs had long recognized how good the land and climate were for winemaking but were getting no help from Spain. Understandably, the new republic turned to France for guidance.

Invited experts came to Chile, bringing with them the vines they were familiar with. This is why most of the varietals you find here are Bordeaux and Burgundy grapes[vii]. This was not unique to Chile—you can find Cabernet Sauvignon and Chardonnay in most wine producing countries—but it certainly helped kickstart the industry here.

French specialists brought over vines and know-how and took back American vines and phylloxera with them.

Those Pesky Bugs

If you’ve dipped your toes into wine history, you’ve likely encountered phylloxera—the infamous vine pest that wreaked havoc in the late 19th century. Let’s break it down: American vines (from all over the Americas, not just the U.S.) were naturally immune to this pesky insect, but European vines weren’t so lucky. Phylloxera feasted on their roots, crippling the plants and ultimately killing them. Nearly half of France’s vineyards were wiped out, which is why phylloxera gets so much attention. The blight spread across Europe for decades until scientists found a clever solution: grafting European varietals onto phylloxera-resistant American rootstocks. Chile, however, remained—and still remains—phylloxera-free, making it a key player in helping France rebuild its vineyards.

So, to sum up, we got European vines, with which we started making high-quality wines. We sent them American vines filled with bugs, which decimated their wineries. Then, we sent back roots and vines so they could graft them and recover. And us? Well…

One Hundred Years of … Not Much, Really

I’m not going to sit here and tell you that nothing happened for around a century, but there’s not a lot to write home about. Let me give you a quick rundown:

• Chile systematically replaced their País grape vineyards with French varietals.Thankfully they didn’t go all the way, for País makes a wonderful light red wine.
• The United States rapidly became the main market for Chilean wine. Unfortunately, Chile lost that market due to prohibition.
• Wineries became modern and industrialized. Chile started exporting wine in bulk.
• Some winemakers began paying more attention to terroir and quality. Iconic wines even won several international awards.
• Chile focused on competitive varietals like Cabernet Sauvignon, Chardonnay, Sauvignon Blanc, and Merlot, which started dominating the landscapes.

And it’s with Merlot that the next big thing happened. Sort of.

The Reports of My Extinction Are Greatly Exaggerated

Late in the 20^th century, Merlot became a fashionable varietal. As a result, Chile started growing more and more of this grape. Except some of those plants weren’t Merlot. Remember when the French brought their grapes to Chile? One of them was Merlot, of course. An another was … well, maybe mislabeled? Mistranslated? I’m not sure, but the point is that for close to a century, Chile had been growing a grape as Merlot that turned out to be something else. Then, in ’94, some of it was found to actually be Carménère, which was thought to be lost after the phylloxera blight. You can read that story here.

Yes. Lost.

After nearly a century, Bordeaux had done just fine without it, but Chile was able to turn Carménère into its flagship wine. It’s one of the few countries that plants it, and the one that grows the most.

The Last Drop

Let’s circle back to present day. Since resurrecting Carménère late last century, Chile’s wine industry has grown in a couple of directions. On the one hand, it became more industrialized. Chile’s winery size average is amongst the largest in the world, and the big producers dominate supermarket aisles and even specialty stores. These cellars pump out bulk wine for export, so a lot of the Chilean wine you find globally comes from these big houses. On the other hand, smaller boutique wineries are gaining ground, focusing on terroir-driven wines and finding remote valleys previously underutilized for growing vines.

You’d be right if you expect me to praise these smaller producers for making high quality wines, often from less common varietals[viii]. But you’d be wrong if you think I will criticize the big companies. They’re the reason for Chile’s wine marketing success: It’s known and available worldwide. This industries, by the way, are not making bad wine. Safer? Sometimes, yes. Vanilla? Sure, you could describe some of them that way. But they are great bang-for-your-buck wines that are fun and easy to drink. Both styles coexist in Chile, and they can learn from each other, For us consumers, it means greater variety and price ranges, which is fantastic!

What types of Chilean wine have you had in the past? Which are your favorites? Let’s chat in the comments! I think Chile is headed in the right direction, and they are finding a nice balance between industry and craft.

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Footnotes

[i] Unlike Santiago, he didn’t personally establish La Serena, but it was nonetheless founded by his orders.

[ii] Vines and wine had already made their way to the Americas. From México to Perú and eventually to Chile.

[iii] It’s uncommon, but you can still find it today in California under that name, the Mission varietal.

[iv] Although some of this might be general of all European colonies in the Americas, here I’m being specific about Spanish colonies in Chile.

[v] Most of the information I’ve gotten for this section of my article comes from the fantastic research by Gonzalo Rojas and published in the Vinifera magazine in 2022. It’s in Spanish, but if you are as fascinated by this kind of stuff as me, give it a read!

[vi] First in the late 16^th century, and then early in the 19^th century, during the Napoleonic occupation of Spain.

[vii] French varietals from other regions also made their way to Chile, like Cinsault or Syrah, but the more popular ones are from Bordeaux and Burgundy.

[viii] Besides a revival of the Pais grape, Chile is now also making excellent wines made with Garnacha (you might know it as Grenache), Cinsault, and Carignan.

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Cover Image: Vineyards at the foot of the Andes, a magnificent view. Photo by me.