So I cracked open this 2018 Marichalar Rioja from Spain, lured in by the royal-sounding back label that proudly claims “Dad bought the vineyard from the Earl!”—which, okay, sounds impressive until you realize “Earl” might just be a guy who owned a used tractor dealership and drank sangria from a Solo cup. But it was an actual Earl. Of the Spanish Monarchy, no less. Which honestly sounds like the setup for a Netflix drama. Still, it had a 92 from James Suckling (allegedly), though I’m pretty sure that score was awarded during a global palate shortage. Because in 2025? Eh… not quite 92-ing.
The wine was medium dry, not too oaky, and had a gentle fruitiness—but then came that little zing of sweetness at the end. And not in a charming, “this is complex” kind of way. More like, “why does this Rioja want to flirt with my Zinfandel?” Just a touch weird for a Spanish red, which usually leans full “matador with a mouthful of tannins.”
On night two, I was still in ham-recovery mode, so I served it up with a ham casserole (because there’s only so much plain ham one can emotionally endure). The wine didn’t exactly improve overnight. It leaned raisiny, and not in a sexy “dried plum aged in oak” kind of way—more like “did someone leave the bottle next to the radiator?” But it did manage to wash down my salty pig pile of leftovers, so points for utility.
For $9.99, it wasn’t a total waste—just a little past its royal prime. If this wine were a prince, it’d be the one politely waving from the balcony while better Spanish reds are off conquering palates and seducing lamb shanks. Drinkable, but not the kind of Rioja you write love poems to.
Types of Grapes: Tempranillo and ??
ABV % / Fun Juice Level: 13.5%
Origin: Spain
Grocery Outlet Price: $9.99
