Ah, Touriga Nacional! That icon of Portuguese viticulture, celebrated as the rare gem of our wines, omnipresent in the speeches of winemakers, sommeliers, and bureaucrats who draft the industry's regulations. The ultimate indigenous grape variety, they say. Deeply rooted in our tradition, they insist. But there’s one small detail: in Trás-os-Montes, this so-called queen never had a throne.
And how do I know this? Simple. After visiting producers who have lived with wine since childhood—people who inherited vineyards from their grandparents, grew up treading grapes in stone lagares, and always drank what the land provided without needing trends or external approvals—I noticed a pattern: in these old vineyards, where grape varieties intertwine like a living organism, Touriga Nacional simply doesn’t exist. Not a single vine.
Curious, isn’t it? In these rugged lands of terraces and steep slopes, where every village had its own wine, made from a blend of red and white grapes growing side by side, Touriga Nacional was never part of the equation. And yet, if we look at modern regulations, there it is, imposed as if it had always been the backbone of Trás-os-Montes wines.
But let’s look at the facts: Trás-os-Montes had a vineyard model that worked. Dense, mixed vineyards, where the diversity of grape varieties naturally ensured balance and longevity in the wine. Winemaking happened in the vineyard, not in the cellar. Then came the European funds, the incentives for replanting, the aligned and trained vineyards, standardized grape varieties. Suddenly, Touriga Nacional everywhere, as if it had always been like that.
But why? Well, because it was convenient. Touriga Nacional is resistant, productive, and responds well to vineyard treatments. It produces structured, powerful wines with great aging potential. Perfect for the modern market, but far from the profile of the wines our ancestors made and drank. The old practice of mixing red and white grapes in the vineyard, which provided freshness and natural balance to Trás-os-Montes wines, was discarded as if it had been a mistake—when, in fact, it was their greatest strength.
And the old winemakers, who have always made wine from their own vineyards, immediately notice the difference. With a knowing smile, they tell me these modern varieties “paint a lot.” And they do—loaded with tannins, rough in their youth, needing years to tame their fury. Unlike the Bastardos they always knew—grapes with softer tannins, which brought natural balance to the wine without making it an over-extracted bomb. They didn’t need to wait years for their wine to soften; their vineyards already provided the right harmony.
And now, when a “Vinhas Velhas” wine includes Touriga Nacional in the blend, I have to ask: what old vineyards are we talking about? Historic vineyards, rooted in time and tradition? Or just old on paper, yet new in concept? Because these Tourigas that now appear so easily in today’s blends do not come from scattered century-old vines, nor from those ancient vineyards that carry generations of heritage. They are old vineyards, yes… but aged prematurely, planted in the rush of European subsidies, trained for mechanization, and shaped for a profile that was never truly ours.
And in the middle of all this, where is the legislation protecting the true historical heritage of our vineyards? Where is the respect for what our ancestors built? That is the real question.
But for those who truly want to taste real Vinhas Velhas, the path is different. Forget the labels and visit the villages—talk to the farmers who still have those vines, many of them centenary. There are still many, and some even make good wine—of course, without much enological control, made empirically, as it always was. And that’s where, sometimes, you can still find the true taste of the history we insist on forgetting.
And for those who insist on having a label, choose wisely. Because even among the wines labeled “Vinhas Velhas,” the truly authentic ones are rare.
Now, don’t get me wrong—I like Touriga Nacional. It’s a noble grape variety, expressive, and capable of producing remarkable wines. But I enjoy drinking a true Vinhas Velhas even more, one that carries the story of the vineyard in the bottle. And that’s what we need to understand: the differences in wine must reflect the differences in the vineyard. If we want authenticity, we must respect what the land has given us—not what we were told to plant...
Text: Miguel Viana Vinhos
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