Argentina: Exploring the Outer Reaches

BY JOAQUÍN HIDALGO | MAY 15, 2025

Measured by land area, Argentina is the eighth-largest country in the world. However, compared to Spain or Italy, some of Argentina’s provinces are similar in scale, even though the total population is just 46 million—only one-third of the combined total of those two countries. Argentina is a vast yet sparsely populated country. Landscapes and geography shift dramatically across a country that stretches from the tropics to the cold Antarctic seas. Within this context, certain places in Argentina are well known to the world at large—Patagonia’s glaciers or the Iguazú Falls—but many others remain completely unfamiliar.

Now imagine this expansive, often overlooked territory as a wine-drinking nation. One where, even well into the 20th century, the only way to drink anything other than water was to produce it at home or in the village. Some of those areas evolved over time—like the Primera Zona in Mendoza—while others remained remote and only scantly inhabited. This report is dedicated to those far-flung places where wine is still made.

From the southernmost to the northernmost point featured here, the distance is nearly 2,500 kilometers (km), roughly equivalent to traveling from the Canadian border to the southern tip of Texas. From east to west, it spans about 1,000 km, the distance between New York and Chicago. Some of these places are living remnants of the days when muleteers traded across the Andes. Others are newly developed and tied to modern tourism. A few are strictly production-focused, with their sights set on the global market. Whatever the case, this report offers a journey through some of Argentina’s least-expected winegrowing corners—places off the map entirely, or represented by just a handful of bottles found in select restaurants and wine shops. In a country as geographically large as Argentina, you’re bound to find vines in unexpected corners. In this report I explore some lesser-known wine-producing areas while also casting my eye over a few classics from the north and south of the country. In all, these 200 wines reflect the country’s diverse geography and the winemakers who ply their trade in the most unlikely places.

La Pampa del Leoncito is a high-altitude salt flat (1,870 meters) at the gateway to Barreal, in the Calingasta Valley. The Ansilta Mountain Range dominates the landscape, with peaks reaching up to 5,800 meters. 

The San Juan Andes

We’ve been driving along a gravel road through the Andes for an hour now, heading from Mendoza to San Juan. To my left, the snowy peaks of the mountain range are hidden by thick clouds. To my right are the foothills with their gentle slopes, raggedy vegetation and the odd patch of snow. We’ve turned off Ruta 7, which runs from Mendoza to Chile, and are now heading north into the freezing winter air of Barreal and Calingasta, two towns nestled in the mountains of San Juan. Even up here, one finds vineyards.

In this section of their long expanse, the Andes exude all the magic and desolation of the desert, with majestic formations seemingly just a stone’s throw away. The weather has driven herds of guanaco down into the valley, where they can be seen placidly grazing in the sunny but freezing landscape. This would seem an unpromising land for grapevines, but that’s precisely the reason why they produce such distinctive wines. 

Half an hour later, we spy the town of Barreal as the SUV crunches over a large salt flat, kicking up white crystals as it goes. At the wheel is Vasco Biscaisaque of Los Dragones Wines, and behind him, Pancho Bugallo of Cara Sur. Around here, people go by their nicknames.

Biscaisaque and Bugallo met in the mountains, up in the Ansilta range, where glaciers form a bluish-white outline. It was wine that cemented their friendship. Growing vines in an area where it’s a trek to get anywhere, where the sun scorches the slopes in summer but the cold nights boast some of the clearest, most dazzling skies on the continent has both its burdens and its rewards.

In 2024, the pair and a handful of other producers suggested drawing boundaries for the different areas within the Calingasta Valley. Connected by the Los Patos River, these towns and sectors each have their own viticultural character. The results were confounding: across less than 215 hectares of vines, there are now five separate Geographic Indications. To the local producers, each distinction is self-evident and rolls off the tongue: Barreal, Sorocayense and Paraje Hilario have soils typical of the Andean foothills and lower temperatures due to their altitude; Tamberías and Calingasta, on the other side of the river, have alluvial soils and higher temperatures; another region can be demarcated from Villa Corral to Puchuzún along the Castaño River, the other major tributary to the San Juan.

From left to right, Federico Isgró, winemaker at Viña del Carmen; Pancho Bugallo, Cara Sur; and Vasco Biscaisaque, Los Dragones Wines.

These producers know the distinctions might seem excessive, but they also believe them to be authentic and necessary. Many say that the secret to this area lies in one of the least-known winemaking heritages of Argentina. The history dates back to colonial times, when these towns were stops along the trans-Andes trade route and farmers planted vines for refreshment: Criolla Chica (Listán Prieto) and other Criollas, such as Torrontés Riojano, Torrontés Sanjuanino and Torrontés Mendocino, among many others, all brought up from the plains on the backs of mules. These regions and varietal diversity make up a terroir that brings nuanced intensity to the wines.

On our journey that day, we were joined by Federico Isgró, who runs Bodega el Carmen. We visited a series of century-old vineyards: pergola-trained with trunks as thick as oaks that, even in May, after the frosts, still had a few green leaves. An overlooked bunch of white grapes had shriveled into raisins—they gave off potent Muscat aromas and tasted extremely sweet. 

Many producers in San Juan, and some in Mendoza, seek out grapes from Calingasta because they deliver intense flavors and high concentration among both the whites and reds. Local producers were thus quick to establish their Geographic Indications so as to protect their names from more unscrupulous winemakers. Calingasta only represents 0.5% of San Juan’s total output (which is dominated by the 41,000 hectares in the warmer lower valleys), but it remains crucial to sustaining the Andean identity in contrast to the burning desert. 

The wines from this part of the world cast an unusual spell. There’s something about these wines, ruffled by the wind, polished by stones and full of sunlit character, that oozes natural purity. These attractive qualities can be found in the 2022 Cara Sur Parcela El Durazner, 2023 Los Dragones El Pedrazal Garnacha and 2022 Nido del Tigre Predador.

Alongside Calingasta, Pedernal is the other high-altitude valley in San Juan. I wrote about Pedernal and its chalky soils in my 2024 article. The wines in this report eloquently reflect the high quality attainable here. Among the 80+ wines from San Juan I tasted, wines from Calingasta and Pedernal scored especially high, but we should not overlook the Zonda Valley, where unusual, isolated regions like La Ciénaga bring the subtle terroir nuances of the foothills to a range of sun-kissed wines.

Three extreme landscapes: On the left, the landscape of Río Negro, where poplars and irrigation channels form the heart of the vineyard landscape. In the center, lenticular clouds over the Andes, typical of the Zonda wind in high-altitude Calingasta. On the right, a pre-Columbian mortar surrounded by vineyards in a ravine in Cafayate, northern Argentina.

Enchanted Patagonia

It’s November 2024, just before vines begin to flower. Poplars stretch as far as the eye can see, swaying in a gentle breeze. The air is filled with the sound of rustling leaves, lending a pleasant tranquility to the afternoon. This is the landscape of Northern Patagonia, especially around General Roca, but it could also be Mainque or Fernández Oro in Río Negro. To the south of the valley—which is so wide it doesn’t seem like a valley at all—the dark blue Río Negro meanders along, delineating the region and defining the wines it produces. Most of the vines here are planted on the northern side, where the soils change gradually from gravel to the clay, sand and lime of the Barda (the local name for the steep slopes that mark the edge of the valley). Depending on where the vines are situated, the wines can either be extremely lean or deliver great volume and structure. Wherever you are, the river is the definitive factor, creating an oasis in what would otherwise be a desert, as well as regulating the temperature.

Between these never-ending rows of poplars are vineyards planted in the early 20th century. The vineyards here are tended by producers such as Noemía, Humberto Canale and Riccitelli Wines, who share an interest in these venerable vines (Cabernet Sauvignon, Pinot Noir, Malbec and Sémillon) and their genetic heritage, with most of the selections dating back to 1909. This domesticated landscape also provides protection from the powerful Patagonian winds, resulting in wines of greater delicacy than one finds elsewhere in the vast and diverse regions of Patagonia.

Hans Vinding Diers, winemaker and owner of Noemía, works with old vines in Mainque, Río Negro.

The highest ratings in this report were awarded to wines from this region. Here, the red wines deliver red fruit and polished tannins, with fresh, agile palates that demonstrate excellent balance. The 2022 Noemía Malbec, 2023 Humberto Canale Gran Reserva Malbec, and the 2023 Riccitelli Bastardo Old Vines are exceptional examples.

A century ago, the Patagonia of Rio Negro must have looked similar to that now flourishing in Neuquén on the northern side of the river, where planting only began in 2000. Another region currently being explored is the steppes at the heart of Chubut, about 400 miles directly south. I last visited the remote vineyard in August 2021, when the vines were tucked in bed for the winter. That day, the westerly wind, the famous Roaring 40s so well known to sailors, was raging at 75 miles per hour. We had to shout right into each other’s ears to be heard, and one especially vicious gust blew my glasses well over 100 feet away. Around the vines, the recently planted, bare poplars provided little protection. One day, they will be as tall and graceful as those seen in Río Negro.

This southerly corner, which today represents the extreme limit of where it is possible to grow vines—at a latitude of 45º 30”—produces some of the most delicious wines in this report. But Patagonia is large, and the southerly frontier is slowly expanding. People are keen to set up wineries with the added commercial bonus of tourism. While the vineyards of northern Patagonia account for just 1.4% of Argentina’s total wine production, the emerging corners of Chubut are still barely notional, with the only major plantation being the 70 hectares that belong to Otronia.

Otronia is Argentina's southernmost vineyard, in Chubut, at the heart of the Patagonian steppe. The recently planted poplars have yet to provide protection against the region's strong winds.

Bookends to the North

At the other end of Argentina, from the Calchaquí Valleys to the Quebrada de Humahuaca, wines are made at extreme altitudes; between 5,600 and 11,000 feet. These valleys on the edge of the Puna grasslands offer a range of otherworldly landscapes. I’ve visited them many times, even though they only account for 1.6% of Argentina’s wine production.

Along this 180-mile stretch, the towns of the Calchaquí valleys are so isolated from one another that the distances are best measured in time. To get from Cafayate to Colomé, or Pucará, for example, takes between three and five hours, so long as the road hasn’t been blocked by a summer landslide. The actual distance is between 60 and 120 miles. The inner valleys are home to centennial vineyards originally planted in colonial times, partly because the vines lent shade to houses in the summer, partly because the grapes were a tasty treat and partly to serve a rustic craft-wine industry from the 18th to the 20th centuries until better roads were built to connect the towns. These ancient vines, almost exclusively Criolla Chica, Criolla Blanca and Torrontés Riojano, are now being harvested by producers trying out new styles. Good examples are the 2023 El Esteco Criolla Chica Old Vines, the 2021 Sunal Exploración and the 2021 Amaicha Criolla Chica.

Grown throughout the Andes, Criolla grapes are subject to a degree of naming confusion. These varieties are all part of a family that arose in the colonial period as seeds and plantations spread. Almost all originated as a combination of Listán Prieto and Muscat of Alexandria, varieties brought by the Spanish. Some have been especially successful, such as Torrontés Riojano (a very aromatic, floral white), Cereza and Criolla Grande (Pink grapes with berries as big as walnuts), and Torrontés Sanjuanino (a neutral white as productive as an Ugni Blanc, which was originally planted to make Brandy and Pisco on either side of the Andes). About 21 different Criolla varieties have been identified so far, with distinctive DNAs and origins. The naming confusion is sown by Listán Prieto, which is known in Argentina as Criolla Chica due to its smaller berries, in Chile as País, and in California as Mission. Despite its name, Criolla Chica is in fact not a native variety.

Finca Los Cuices, in a ravine of the Calchaquí Valley, offers one of the most picturesque landscapes in northern Argentina. This vineyard was planted on ancient pre-Columbian terraces.

With this array of grapes, as well as a decent amount of Bordeaux varieties grown at an almost tropical latitude, the wines here reflect an extreme landscape. In the case of Malbec, for example, the harvest window for fruity, low alcohol wines is so narrow that most end up a little overripe, resulting in jammy, dark fruit profiles. Due to this difficulty, greenness can also be an issue, and the tannins can be rather rugged. This profile is known locally as Vallisto. However, when the fruit is harvested at just the right moment, the resulting wines can be extremely refined, something achieved by a select number of producers.  

I have written about this corner of Argentina at length. What I’m seeing year on year is that greater precision is increasingly the goal as producers struggle to tame the brute force of the terroir. These efforts are bearing fruit, as this report features several wines that deliver on that objective, such as the 2023 Colomé Estate Malbec, 2021 El Esteco Finca Notables Cabernet Sauvignon (probably the most distinctive of the Cabernets of the north) and the 2023 Alto Los Cuises Malbec. These producers are blazing a new trail in the high-altitude valleys.

I tasted the wines in this report between May and December 2024 at the wineries and in my office in Buenos Aires. I also included a few wines from other little-known regions, such as Traslasierra in Córdoba and the Sierras of Balcarce in the Province of Buenos Aires.

© 2025, Vinous. No portion of this article may be copied, shared or re-distributed without prior consent from Vinous. Doing so is not only a violation of our copyright, but also threatens the survival of independent wine criticism.

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