I poured this one like a dare. The glass took it as an invitation and responded with a slow, lawless ovation. Descendientes de J. Palacios La Faraona 2016 is not politely asking for attention—she commandeers it, strips your assumptions, and leaves you grinning, slightly scandalized, and oddly wiser.

In The Glass: Velvet And River Stones

The color is a mid-weight garnet that still remembers midnight—ruby at the core, an almost theatrical garnet rim that hints the wine has done a little living. Aromas unfurl like a hidden courtyard at dusk: crushed blackberry and sour cherry first, but give it a spin and you get slate and river-smoke, a pencil shaving of graphite, and a ribbon of iron that isn’t metallic so much as honest. There’s a floral ghost—violet—and a faint perfume of overripe plum smeared with fennel seed and a lick of wild herbs. It’s both place and personality: serious, slightly feral, and terribly charismatic.

On The Palate: A Slow Heist Of Texture And Tension

This is Mencía that learned restraint at the foot of cliffs and mischief under the stars. The attack is cool and precise—bracing acidity like a cliff-wind—and then the mid-palate starts doing the real work: dense but fine-grained tannins that grip without punishing, a texture that’s more silk under chainmail than blunt oak plank. Flavors echo the nose—black fruit, bruised cherry, anise—but the joy here is in the savory scaffolding: wet stone minerality, cured ham fat, a little allspice, and an uplift of citrus peel that keeps the finish soaring rather than collapsing into jam.

The finish is persistent in a civilized, slightly smug way—long enough to make conversation, short enough to leave you thirsty. It’s the rare wine that can make you both thoughtful and dangerous.

Old Vines, Steep Slopes, And A Winemaker With A Tempered God Complex

This is a wine of place in the old-school sense: steep, slate-dominated terraces, vines that remember the century before you were born, and a human touch that’s more artisan than artisan-brand marketing. Descendientes de J. Palacios work with tiny parcels and low yields; La Faraona is coaxed, not manufactured. The 2016 vintage gave concentration without caricature—ripe fruit tempered by cool nights, which preserved acidity and kept phenolics elegantly old-world. The story you tell at dinner is simple and effective: heritage vines, terroir-forward, crafted by people who prefer talking soil to PR.

How To Make Magic Happen At Your Table

Serve at 60–64°F (15–18°C). Decant for 30–60 minutes if you’re impatient; otherwise a slow reveal in the glass is part of the pleasure. Food? Think rustic theater: charcoal-grilled flank steak with smoked paprika, roast lamb with oregano and preserved lemon, or a board with aged manchego, jamon ibérico, olives, and a handful of roasted piquillo peppers. For a risky-pleasure pairing, try it with mushroom ragù over pappardelle—earth meets iron, and the wine will laugh delightedly.

Scarcity, Score Momentum, And A Patient Collector’s Smile

La Faraona isn’t a mass-market medal magnet. It’s produced in small quantities and lives in the portfolio of people who collect for terroir rather than trend. The 2016 vintage sits at a sweet spot: enough maturity to be singing now, yet enough tannic backbone and natural acidity for safe medium-term cellaring—think 8–15 years for those who want evolution, or enjoy now for near-immediate thrill. If you value provenance and scarcity, this bottle behaves like an asset: limited, regionally distinctive, and increasingly visible among savvy collectors. Buy a case if you love it; buy three if you love the idea of being the friend everyone calls when something serious is needed.

Final Note: Don’t Walk Away From This Invitation

Passing on La Faraona 2016 isn’t tragedy—it’s missed ceremony. This is a wine that rewards attention, conversation, and a small degree of bravado. It’s not trying to charm the masses; it’s here to seduce the curious, the stubborn, and the slightly theatrical. If you want a wine that tastes of place, that ages with teeth and poetry, and that makes ordinary evenings feel like a minor myth, then stop hesitating. Pour, listen, and let her rearrange your expectations.