Tuscany with a magical side: the taste of Bolivia's wine region

“Pachamama,” said our guide, Orlando Condorí. He tilted his glass and spilled a little rose-colored wine onto the dry sand .

“Yes, Pachamama!” said everyone else, doing the same.

They looked at me. “Pachamama!” I said then, as I poured half my drink onto the floor . I had no idea what I was doing or why, but I did it.

I felt sorry for it. I'd been enjoying that rosé. But it wasn't a bad idea either: I was feeling dizzy. So much so, that I had to sit back down.

“It's not the wine,” explains Niki Barbery-Bleyleben, conservation ambassador for Prometa, an environmental organization focused on sustainability and community resilience. “It's the altitude.” We're 3,500 meters above sea level.

We're standing at a table on a plateau overlooking the Cordillera de Sama Biological Reserve in southern Bolivia . It's the high desert, with its bright sun overhead, overlooking... everything .

From our privileged position, we see the mountain range of the Cordillera in all its immensity, between our group and what seemed to be the confines of the planet: scattered, empty, dust-colored land, a lagoon resplendent with an exuberance of flamingos, and so much sky that I have to crane my neck to find its edges.

The reserve is located in Tarija Province, an agricultural region nestled in the corner of Bolivia that borders Paraguay and Argentina . Tarija, also the name of the city located within that province, isn't large: it's only about 36,000 square kilometers, making it a little bigger than the small US state of Maryland. But its topography is surprisingly varied: forests, deserts, lakes, mountains, sun, rain, snow . It's home to pumas, alpacas, and llamas , as well as three types of flamingos .

It's Bolivia's wine country : a collection of half a dozen of the world's best, little-known wineries surrounded by vast, unspoiled wilderness. Add to that a five-star resort and a celebrity wedding, and Tarija could be the perfect destination. Tuscany, Italy . Although with a magical side.

“ We are very spiritual in Bolivia,” says Niki Barbery-Bleyleben, who holds a doctorate in social policy. “We have roots in several indigenous traditions that date back centuries. The Andean worldview says that we walk toward our past : it is what is known and, therefore, in front of us; the future is behind us , because it is something we cannot see.”

This worldview explains the pouring of the wine. "Pachamama" is a word that expresses gratitude in Quechua and Aymara , originating among the indigenous peoples of the Andes.

“It’s a way of thanking Mother Earth ,” Barbery-Bleyleben teaches us as we load our gear into the back of the truck for the two-hour drive back to Tarija, moving slowly to avoid motion sickness.

My friend Lisa and I came to explore the Tarija wine region with Barbery-Bleyleben and her friend Julie. It turns out that, when you know what you're doing, altitude is a key ingredient in winemaking .

“High-altitude wines are in fashion today,” says Jürgen Kohlberg, owner of Bodega Tayna, a biodynamic vineyard located on the outskirts of the provincial capital. The star of his winery is Pinot Noir, one of the highest-altitude wines in the world.

We're at an altitude of 2,100 meters , and that's not the only problem. " There's no soil," the man comments as we walk through his vineyard. In fact, the soil is made up of small stones he calls slabs.

Slim and white-bearded, Kohlberg has lofty ambitions. “My goal is to make the best Pinot Noir in the world,” he says, adding that the harvest is only “at night, in complete silence . It’s truly magical, isn’t it?”

We returned to our mini-estates, Casa Tinto , on the other side of town, thinking about Kohlberg and his silent, magical harvest. No wonder he only produces about 2,000 bottles a year.

The next morning, after a breakfast of a Bolivian black coffee called Takesi and avocado toast, we walked around town to buy some handwoven items to take home. Later, it was time to visit Campos de Solana , perhaps the boldest vineyard in the area. Manicured paths, lavender bushes, 6-meter-high entrance gates: Campos de Solana could intimidate even the most flamboyant of Tuscan wineries.

“ We shouldn't have viticulture here . In the southern part, there's New Zealand, South Africa, and Patagonia , at about 33 degrees,” describes Luis Pablo Granier, the general manager, referring to the latitudes where other countries develop this activity. “In the northern part, there's Spain , France , and Italy. In Tarija, we're at 21 degrees, so wine doesn't make sense here .”

In other words, the local latitude is often too hot for winemaking. "But because of the altitude, we can produce wine even when we shouldn't be able to."

Like most Bolivian wineries, the Campos de Solana vineyards also produce a liquor called singani (in this case, under the Casa Real brand). Because it's distilled from wine, singani is often compared to cognac or pisco , but for true aficionados, it's a one-of-a-kind spirit.

“I felt like I had stumbled upon a gem that no one knew about,” film director Steven Soderbergh responds when we speak over Zoom. In 2007, Soderbergh filmed part of the movie Che – The Argentine in Bolivia. “When I first received the Royal Family singani, I had a three-part experience.

It's very floral, and I'm not used to a liqueur having that aroma. Then you taste it, and it's very complex. And when you swallow it, it doesn't burn. It just disappears. I thought, 'I have to call the vodka and tell them I met someone.'" According to its designation of origin, or DO, Singani must be made from Muscat of Alexandria grapes and can only be produced in certain regions of Bolivia above 1,600 meters .

“When the Spanish colonized Bolivia, they brought wine,” Franz Molina of Bodega Kuhlmann later explained. “But by the time they reached the coast, it had gone bad, so they had to distill it. That became singani. It was a way of preserving wine .”

Soderbergh was so fascinated by this drink that in 2008 he partnered with the Royal Family and created Singani 63 (he was born in 1963), the first singani exported to the United States .

“I think there's an incredibly misconception among people who've never been to Bolivia that it's somehow a place that's completely unsophisticated,” the filmmaker added. “ There's an incredibly vibrant food and drink culture . You arrive and realize they have everything.”

Just a few days into our trip, we decided to try everything.

Lunch at Atmósfera, the Kohlberg winery 's restaurant, was outdoors. We sat at a table under the branches of a mulberry tree overlooking acres of deep green vineyards. In the distance, birdsong echoed.

Our group had grown to 10 people: members of the Kohlberg family, friends, cousins, one or two winery executives. You'd be forgiven for thinking that everyone in Bolivia knows someone who's a friend of a cousin or a neighbor. It's a small place.

We started with homemade bread and wine butter.

“Out of respect for the planet, we use everything,” says chef Pablo Cassab, who comes forward to present his food. “ Nothing goes to waste . If we peel a carrot, we dry the peel and turn it into carrot powder.”

“In Bolivia, the gastronomic route passes through La Paz ,” he adds, referring to the country's capital. “But as people learn about wine, they begin to learn about food . That leads us to Tarija.”

Immediately after, the next course: grilled artichokes, fried broccoli florets with crispy onions on white bean puree. Moments later, a new wine: Stelar, a white wine made from Ugni grapes , the oldest vines in the vineyard. Stelar comes with its own trick: the label changes color with temperature .

As the sunlight fades, the air thickens, and the bacchanal comes to an end. We return to the van as thick drops of rain pound the windshield.

It's surprisingly cold when we enter Tarija to stop at Tajzara, a small shop not much bigger than a dressing room filled with hand-knitted sweaters. A few alpaca shawls and llama coats later, we walk to Diabla , a luxury women's boutique with Inca-inspired necklaces, evening dresses, woven bracelets, and, in the back, a small workshop where each garment is made.

At another lunch, we were told a story often repeated in Bolivia. They say that American astronaut Neil Armstrong saw the Uyuni salt flat, the world's largest salt flat at 10,000 square kilometers, from the moon and was so fascinated by its beauty that he vowed to visit it one day. (He eventually did, with his family.)

Like Armstrong before him, Bolivia surprised me . Much of its culture seemed improbable. It has grapes that shouldn't grow , a cuisine that rivals the best in South America but is far less well-known, and a rocky, demanding terrain that supports robust agriculture. This corner of the earth populated by llamas, flamingos, and history is both closer to heaven and deeply connected to its roots .

Danielle Pergament / The New York Times

Translation: Roman Garcia Azcarate