Txakoli: The Drunkard, Zarauz, by Joaquín Sorolla
Usually, it’s the wine itself that inspires the desire to write about it. However, at other times, inspiration comes courtesy of an entirely different subject. This time, Art has inspired me to write about a less well-known yet distinctive Spanish white wine called Txakoli.
The Drunkard, Zarauz
The painting shown above is The Drunkard, Zarauz. Also called El Borracho, it’s a marvellous depiction of drunkenness. But in addition, the drunkard’s companions also have a distinct air of predatory menace about them. This picture is by the Valèncian artist Joaquín Sorolla y Bastida, in 1910, who sketched it “live” in its setting while staying in Zarauz that summer.
Britain has largely forgotten about Sorolla, and yet in his day, he was famous worldwide. Indeed, at his London exhibition in 1908, his billing was as ‘the world’s greatest living painter.” Hyperbole, perhaps, but there’s no doubting the talent on show here. This picture was bought by the National Gallery in 2019. I took this picture of it after they put it on display. 1
Meanwhile, Zarauz is the Spanish spelling of Zarautz. A small town on the north coast of Spain, Zarautz lies between the twin tourist destinations of Bilbao and Saint Sebastián (Donostia). Bilbao is a large port city now famous for the iconic Guggenheim museum, while San Sebastián is known for its culture and gastronomy. Welcome to the Pais Vasco, which in Britain we know as the Basque Country. Zarautz is a holiday destination, a mecca for surfers, and a wine town.
So this painting had me thinking, is that white wine in the bottle? And if so, what is it? According to the National Gallery, it’s cider. But is it?
The painting is in Zarautz, inside a local tavern known as a Chacoline. A postcard from Bilbao of a Chacoline is shown below, offering a further clue – the drinkers there are drinking “Chacoli”, or Txakoli. Before continuing with that theme, below is a short interlude about Txakoli, with some wine recommendations.
Txakoli
In these parts, the local wine is Txakoli (Chacoli, pronounced chac-o-lee). Zarautz is part of the small wine DO Getariako Txakolina (aka Txakoli de Getaria, aka Chacolí de Guetaria). It’s one of the three small Txakoli wine regions in the Pais Vasco. It was also the first of the three to receive DO wine status in 1990. It underwent further expansion in 2007.
About 85% of all Txakoli is from a white grape variety called Honderribi Zuri.2 It’s found virtually nowhere else, apart from over the nearby French border, where it’s thought by some to be the Courbu Blanc of Irouléguy AC.
Another grape variety is also grown, called Honderribi Belza, which is red. However, that isn’t related to Zuri and might instead be a form of Cabernet Franc. Consequently, while Txakoli is predominantly white, there is also a little red and rosé. There are other grape varieties grown in the area, all white, with French origins, namely Folle Blanche, Petit Manseng, Petit Courbu and Gros Manseng.
Bilbao Postcard. Outside a Chacoline, playing cards. The Txakoli served here is red.
This part of Spain has an oceanic climate. The Bay of Biscay is known for being stormy, even in summer, making the land extraordinarily green and verdant. There’s as much annual rainfall in these parts as at Malham Tarn in the Yorkshire Dales!
That rain makes growing grapes challenging because of humidity and fungal diseases. Hence, the vines are usually grown high up on pergolas. These shelter the grapes from the rain and encourage drying airflow from offshore breezes. The typically steep mountainous slopes here also promote water run-off.
A Txakoli revival
In Getariako, there’s been a great Txakoli revival. Once there were a thousand hectares of vines along this coast. With a steady decline throughout the 20th century, by 1982, there were only 21 hectares left, with just 3 ha at Zarautz. Now the DO covers 433 hectares 3, the wines are available in the UK, and their quality has probably never been better.
Txakoli is usually a white wine. It’s bottled and sold young, and so often (but not always) has a spritz. The spritz is due to deliberately capturing some CO2 gas still present from the fermentation. In the past, Txakoli’s most memorable aspect was searing high acidity and a crab-apple tartness.
Since the DO, improving viticulture and vinification techniques have allowed winegrowers to make far better wines without losing the malic crispness that is a defining hallmark. Some winemakers are now aiming for longevity as well.
Hence, a typical Txakoli is a greenish-yellow colour, bone dry, with crisp, high acidity. Alcohol is moderate at around 10.5%. There may well be some spritz tingling on the tongue. Flavours are grapey (that’s unusual to find grapes as a fruit in wine), plus apples and pear.
Perhaps it also tastes of the sea. Think of Muscadet or Vinho Verde as comparisons on a similar spectrum.
Getariako Txakolina recommendations
Here are three good examples of Txakoli to try:
Akarregi. Txixi Blanco, DO Getariako Txakolina, Spain. 2025. 10.5%. Quaff, £17.99
Ameztoi. Hondarribi Zuri, DO Getariako Txakolina, Spain. 2025. 10.5%. Latitude, Leeds £17.99
Txomín Etxaníz. Txakoli, DO Getariako Txakolina, Spain. 2025. 11%. Oxford Wine Company £18.50
Food
In the Pais Vasco, seafood rules, and Txakoli is an ideal partner. So the cuisine includes a tuna fish stew called Marmita, plus fresh crabs, lobster and most other shellfish.
Try Pintxos, tapas-like bar snacks featuring anchovies, sardines, hake, cod and tuna skewered onto fresh bread.
Closer to home, anything battered and fried is brilliant, from fish and chips to onion rings.
Further afield, Japanese sushi/sashimi makes for an excellent fusion experience.
Also, try it with asparagus.
Back to the painting
I wrote to The National Gallery about Txakoli possibly being the drink portrayed rather than cider, and asked them if they had evidence for cider. Sadly, I never received any reply despite sending reminders. Hence, their website and the display card still state that the drink in Sorolla’s painting is cider, but without any substantiation. While this is hardly the painting’s most important aspect, it is about social realism.
Consequently, I remain unconvinced. Undoubtedly, Basque cider has always been part of a unique history, culture and cuisine, so it’s special in its own right and has coexisted with wine in these parts for centuries. Also, by 1910, the ravages of Phylloxera had hit the vineyards. The insect had spread north from Pamplona, where it was discovered in 1896. So cider could be right.
However, Basque cider was at that time matured and stored in barrels, and served directly from those. In other words, it was not bottled. In contrast, Txakoli needed to be bottled; otherwise, it would lose its spritz. So why else would there be bottles on the table alongside the drinker?
And finally
Consequently, unless compelling evidence for cider can be provided by Art Historians, on balance I prefer to think that the drink involved is Txakoli.
Perhaps we’ll never know for sure. But regardless, do go and see this fantastic picture!
Notes
- Though I missed the Sorolla exhibition at the National Gallery in 2019, this painting hangs in Room 45 (New Energies – Painting around 1900).
- I’ve seen this spelt as Hondarrabi, Hondarribi, Ondarribi and Ondarrabi.
- Source: Getariako Txakolina DO