She has been honoured with the Mariano López Arias Award by the Fundación Alhóndiga de Tacoronte for her work over the past 30 years as an oenologist for the Cabildo of Gran Canaria. How did you arrive at this position? My career began in Tenerife in 1991, without any set intention when I took up Agricultural Engineering. Interestingly, I specialised in beekeeping, yet I’m allergic to bee stings. I shifted direction and landed a contact through the Santa Ursula Council to work with the Tacoronte-Acentejo Designation of Origin. I eventually became the manager of their Regulatory Council. However, love took me away from Tenerife to Gran Canaria in 1993. A year later, I started a five-year scholarship. I’ve steadily climbed the ranks as the oenologist for the Cabildo, from a scholar, to contracted, to interim, and now a career civil servant. What are the duties of the Island’s ‘official’ oenologist? There are countless tasks in this field. When I started in April 1994, I found the sector quite impoverished, with many old wineries nearly abandoned. There was some activity in the Monte Lentiscal area, and I began working there with José Millán. Back then, no one expected to see a woman in the wine sector, but as I was the Cabildo’s technician, the fact I was a woman was moved to the background. Millán, Diego Cambreleng, Francisco Marín, and Federico Cuyás were instrumental in reviving the Gran Canaria Wine Regulatory Council. I soon realised the sector’s many deficiencies and decided to set up an oenological lab to understand the produce we were working with. The lab analyses not just wines but also honey, oils, ciders, grapes, and musts.
What role did you play in creating the Designation of Origin and subsequent projects? Initially, I contributed technically to establishing the Monte Lentiscal Regulatory Council. Later, the Gran Canaria Council emerged, causing years of debate over whether to merge or remain separate. It was unified into one Council in 2006. I’ve been involved through various projects, the penultimate being the Wine Route, although I’m no longer part of it as there’s now a management team overseeing it. Currently, I’m focused on the Vinigran project, aiming to expand our vineyard land. When viticulturists consult me, I always ask if they have water. I also contributed to establishing the Wine House and local tastings. It’s a medley of work and initiatives. One of the standout achievements noted by the Alhóndiga award jury is breaking into a male-dominated world and earning the respect of viticulturists and winemakers. How did you achieve this? My experience in Tenerife prepared me a bit, since upon arriving in Santa Úrsula, I was initially refused entry into any winery. Luckily, an elderly gentleman, who hadn’t drunk his wine in ten years, let me into his. He referred to me as “the young lass.” I promised him that if he followed my advice, he’d enjoy his own wine again in the future. I nearly fainted when I entered his winery due to the lack of cleanliness. We made the necessary adjustments, and he was able to drink his wine. After that, word spread through the grapevine. Here in Gran Canaria, I was mentored by several figures. Some wouldn’t allow women from their families into the wineries, but accepted me as I was the technician. Almost amusingly, the overseers—‘mayordomos,’ as they were called—used to get nervous upon seeing me. I’d reassure them that I was fine, and they’d calm down. Do you still face any hesitation or resistance, or are absurd myths around menstruation in wineries a thing of the past? I believe no one harbours such notions anymore. A few years back, I snapped a photo for posterity at the Los Olivos winery displaying a sign that read: “Ladies not permitted.” Fortunately, the majority of newcomers to viticulture, about 70% to 80%, are women; perpetuating that legend would be quite difficult. I now feel profoundly respected. Though the quality of wines from Gran Canaria is no longer questioned, the challenge in marketing lies in the limited grape production on the island, resulting in higher prices than other Spanish regions. Do you think we should continue focusing on niche wines, or can production be ramped up to lower costs? As I mentioned, one project I’m working on involves increasing cultivation areas. There’s a demand we can’t currently meet. One issue is that scarce production hinders restaurant wine lists. Through Vinigran, we’re promoting vineyard expansion via grants and irrigation systems. Without sufficient quantity, it’s difficult to establish a lasting presence as consumers forget. Ensuring quality keeps the product in demand and on people’s minds, which is crucial. We also need to address generational renewal. It’s pointless to plant more without individuals dedicated to nurturing the vines. And how can we encourage this generational change in viticulture? Primarily by dignifying agricultural work and valuing the product. Artisan wines are genuinely unique; you won’t find them elsewhere due to their distinct qualities. Regarding pricing, it irks me when people say Gran Canaria wines are pricey. No complaints about Lanzarote wines being expensive are ever voiced. Their white wines are more prevalent here on Gran Canaria than on Lanzarote itself. They’re readily available—any gripes about pricing? None. When people don’t cover their costs, it’s tough to continue. A business must gain enough to sustain itself. What’s more, wine offers cachet, an added allure. Potato growers may dispute this, but there’s always something to entice an enthusiast—be it the winemaking process or tastings. Plus, wine helps preserve our splendid landscape; the alternative is more concrete. Do Gran Canaria wines have room for improvement, in quality and pricing? Yes, each winery has its improvement path established. Around thirty wineries maintain relatively stable products, but achieving that is challenging. Defining Gran Canaria wine is tricky. The grapes offer inherent character, but the winemaking process introduces variability, spanning minimal intervention to more commercial offerings. We have quality; we just need enough quantity to be marketplace contenders. Pricewise, we must account for the cork, bottle, label, and labour. If we seek generational renewal, this needs addressing. Some Canary Island winemakers have ventured to export to mainland Spain or even the US. Is there a market? It’s uncertain; these are pilot experiments. SAT Camaretas is one such endeavour, though I’m unsure about their export volume. Regionally, an association called Abivo—featuring Gran Canaria wineries like Frontón de Oro—conducts activities in the US and other countries. It’s another market. I’m not sure if it’s proven worthwhile yet, but such niches should be explored. Will Trump’s tariffs dash those export dreams? For now, yes. Unless consumers are willing to pay considerably for the wine, the looming fiscal measures are stark. A tariff battle would affect everyone. Subscribe to continue reading.
