The Place Where I Learned That Wine Belongs at the Table

Long before I became a Certified Sommelier, before wine exams, blind tastings, and technical vocabulary became part of my daily life, I spent several months working in the hospitality industry in the Rioja Alavesa.

Looking back, I realize that those months shaped the way I think about wine more than I understood at the time.

Growing up in Mexico during the 1990s, my perception of Rioja was fairly simple. The Spanish wines that reached our market were often iconic traditional brands such as Siglo or Marqués de Riscal. They were respected wines, typically described as "strong" or "oxidized," and were almost always associated with hearty meals—grilled beef, slow-cooked meats, and other rich dishes.

At that time, the explosion of full-bodied New World wines had not yet reached the Mexican market in the way it has today. Rioja represented, for many of us, the reference point for serious red wine.

Then I arrived in Álava.

Wine Was Part of Everyday Life

I was fortunate to work at a camping hostel whose owners generously welcomed me into their world. From time to time, they invited me to accompany them on winery visits throughout Rioja Alavesa.

Although I knew little about wine, my curiosity was endless.

What fascinated me wasn't only the wineries themselves. It was watching how local families and friends naturally incorporated wine into everyday life.

Wine wasn't reserved for celebrations. It simply belonged at the table.

Meals Were Meant to Be Enjoyed

One of the greatest lessons I brought home had very little to do with tasting notes.

Meals had their own rhythm.

There was time for lunch. Time for dinner. Time for conversation. And, perhaps most importantly, time for the sobremesa—that uniquely Spanish tradition of remaining at the table long after the meal has finished, simply enjoying the company of those around you.

Nobody seemed to be in a hurry.

The wine became part of the conversation rather than the center of attention.

As someone working in hospitality, I didn't realize it then, but I was witnessing hospitality in one of its purest forms.

Understanding Rioja Through the Table

It was also the first time I understood that Crianza, Reserva, and Gran Reserva were more than labels on a bottle.

They reflected different expressions of Rioja and often found their place at different moments around the table.

A Crianza frequently accompanied casual meals, shared plates, or an afternoon of pintxos with friends.

When richer dishes appeared—roasted meats, grilled beef, or more elaborate family gatherings—it wasn't uncommon to see a Reserva opened.

And on particularly special Sundays or family celebrations, a Gran Reserva might accompany slow-braised lamb or beef, turning an ordinary meal into something memorable.

These weren't rigid rules.

They were simply part of a culture where food, wine, and occasion naturally complemented one another.

More Than a Wine Region

Today, after years of formal wine education, I understand Rioja very differently.

I can appreciate its history, its diverse terroirs, its remarkable producers, and the stylistic evolution that has made the region one of the world's great wine destinations.

But whenever I open a bottle of Rioja, those technical details aren't the first thing that come to mind.

I remember friends. I remember conversations that lasted well after dessert.

I remember generous people who took the time to share their traditions with a curious young visitor (Eric "The Mexican") who knew almost nothing about wine.

Those experiences taught me something that every sommelier eventually discovers:

Great wine is never just about what's in the glass.

It's about the people sitting around the table. That is why Rioja will always hold a special place in my heart.

Cheers!