You want a ‘back of a fag packet’ description of Rapel? OK – it’s the next wine valley down from Maipo. That’s the easy bit. But whereas Maipo is known, essentially, for Cabernet (and Casablanca is known for cool-climate whites and Pinot), Rapel is more diverse. There’s a chaotic creative energy that drives the DO which makes it hard to classify, but also incredibly stimulating. 

Let’s start with what we can get a handle on fairly easily. Rapel is really two valleys, not one: Cachapoal (pronounced Catch-a-po-al) in the north and Colchagua adjoining it to the south. Any wine labelled ‘Rapel’ is likely to be a blend of fruit from both areas. But increasingly, wines are tending to come from one sub-valley or the other.

Generally, Rapel is pretty hot. Some 90% of its production is red, and historically it’s been home to much of the country’s Cabernet and Merlot. But these statistics only tell half the story. First, because much of the ‘Merlot’ that was planted turned out to be Carmenère, and second, because it’s possible to find areas within the DO that are almost as cool as San Antonio.

The great divide

To understand Rapel, you need to think east/west. In the central areas, shielded from the sea winds, it is very hot. Apalta, for instance, the curving kidney-shaped swathe of A-list vineyards drifting up the scalloped hills from the magnificently named Tinguiririca River, soaks up the sunlight like Hermitage. Planted mostly to Syrah, Merlot, Cabernet and Carmenère, it gives heady wines of rich power and structure.

Yet move just 40km to the west and you’re in coastal Colchagua; Sauvignon Blancs produced here are as fresh and minerally as you could wish. If ever there was proof that Chile’s current appellation system needs refining, it is this. There is as big a difference between Colchagua Costa (places like Lolol or Marchihue) and Colchagua Central as between the Languedoc and the Loire. Yet both are designated Colchagua.

In praise of Carmenère

If you had to choose one grape to define Rapel, it would probably be Carmenère. It’s not the most-planted variety, but, with the heat and the long growing season that it so needs, this is probably where it does best. And depending on whether it’s grown east, central or west, it reveals an amazing variety of styles.

As someone who has long been a Carmenère-sceptic, I was astonished at the differences in character from within the same appellation: from light, cheery bright-red fruited Beaujolais/Burgundy styles to dark, intense, spicy brooders.

That there has been a huge amount of work on Carmenère in Chile over the past few years is obvious, and as a foodie grape it has several big advantages. For starters, it’s unique – no one else makes wines that taste quite like this; second, the spice-driven wines have a muted, savoury, yet soft character that is very food friendly; third, with low tannins and sprightly acidity, the wines (in every style) tend to have an attractive self-contained possession that means they will go well with food.

It’s a wine that is on its way to becoming a New World varietal classic. And with so many styles available, every wine list should have at least one.