Familia Morgan
A brief history
Like most good stories, this one starts on eBay. After a lifetime and career in Georgia, I was missing the big open skies of the West, where I had grown up. I stumbled upon a farm in San Rafael, Argentina. It was idyllic: abundant water, vast vistas, ancient olive trees. Upon arrival, the farm had already been sold.
Now what? But we fell for the high desert—its sunny days and crisp nights, and water canals that weaved like veins through the city, creating an oasis in the vast campo. We were enchanted by San Rafael. Winemakers from San Rafael are fiercely passionate about their terroir. Despite not having the fame of the bodegas up north, this small five-hundred-kilometer square is one of the more unique wine-growing regions in South America.
The Diamanté River, in prehistoric times, traced its course over the face of the desert, leaving a rich deposit of diverse minerals. This Alluvial Cone is responsible for a dynamic tapestry of different soil types. You can travel a few kilometers in this area and find drastically different substrates and microclimates.
The city truly IS a mosaic of wine regions! Now I was intrigued, I needed to find a farm. El Tambo, or The Dairy, a century ago, was used to fabricate Dulce-De-Leche, the thick, sweet caramel custard found in nearly every dessert in Argentina. But now the estancia was abandoned. Dead and brown. Men would sneak in during the twilight hours and rip the electric wires out of the walls with horses. It wasn’t in a good state of affairs. The irrigation ditches were dry. No water for months. A Journey: “Finally, We Listened to the Land.” Our land after years of cultivation.
Vineyard and alamo trees. We started the slow process to bring its barren land back to life. And, if you’re in one of the premium wine-growing areas of Argentina, what’s the logical next step? We raised cattle. That didn’t work out. Neither did the garlic, or the fruit orchard, or attempting to grow alfalfa with a behemoth, DIY sprinkler system.
Finally, we listened to the land.
“Let’s grow vines!”
--beautiful Malbecs, rich and complex Cabernets, Bonardas, vibrant Syrahs. Me finally enjoying the fruits of my labor. We built a small bodega, put in a few tanks, and we started crushing those grapes, those beautiful clusters, and under the guidance of an up-and-coming winemaker from the Bodega Abeja (one of the oldest in San Rafael), we made our first vintage. Sometimes you realize it isn't the destination but the journey and that feels very true with wine. I want to remember the journey and share it with others. Hopefully I'm building something my grandkids will be a part of someday.
- Barry Morgan (Familia Morgan)
Now what? But we fell for the high desert—its sunny days and crisp nights, and water canals that weaved like veins through the city, creating an oasis in the vast campo. We were enchanted by San Rafael. Winemakers from San Rafael are fiercely passionate about their terroir. Despite not having the fame of the bodegas up north, this small five-hundred-kilometer square is one of the more unique wine-growing regions in South America.
The Diamanté River, in prehistoric times, traced its course over the face of the desert, leaving a rich deposit of diverse minerals. This Alluvial Cone is responsible for a dynamic tapestry of different soil types. You can travel a few kilometers in this area and find drastically different substrates and microclimates.
The city truly IS a mosaic of wine regions! Now I was intrigued, I needed to find a farm. El Tambo, or The Dairy, a century ago, was used to fabricate Dulce-De-Leche, the thick, sweet caramel custard found in nearly every dessert in Argentina. But now the estancia was abandoned. Dead and brown. Men would sneak in during the twilight hours and rip the electric wires out of the walls with horses. It wasn’t in a good state of affairs. The irrigation ditches were dry. No water for months. A Journey: “Finally, We Listened to the Land.” Our land after years of cultivation.
Vineyard and alamo trees. We started the slow process to bring its barren land back to life. And, if you’re in one of the premium wine-growing areas of Argentina, what’s the logical next step? We raised cattle. That didn’t work out. Neither did the garlic, or the fruit orchard, or attempting to grow alfalfa with a behemoth, DIY sprinkler system.
Finally, we listened to the land.
“Let’s grow vines!”
--beautiful Malbecs, rich and complex Cabernets, Bonardas, vibrant Syrahs. Me finally enjoying the fruits of my labor. We built a small bodega, put in a few tanks, and we started crushing those grapes, those beautiful clusters, and under the guidance of an up-and-coming winemaker from the Bodega Abeja (one of the oldest in San Rafael), we made our first vintage. Sometimes you realize it isn't the destination but the journey and that feels very true with wine. I want to remember the journey and share it with others. Hopefully I'm building something my grandkids will be a part of someday.
- Barry Morgan (Familia Morgan)
