Mendoza: Argentina’s Wine Capital Beneath the Andes

In Mendoza, there are two types of tourists: wine lovers and crusty hikers. Being both, we spent a bit of time alternating between our fancy pants and dirty socks. Here are a handful of our favorite stops along the way.

City of Mendoza

Leafy and laidback, Mendoza itself has more to offer than I’d expected. We spent a couple of days in town, wandering down the tree-canopied sidewalks and popping into a few great locales.

Chinitas Wine Club

The moment you walk into Chinitas, you feel part of this lady-led club. “Chinita” colloquially means lover of a gaucho, and the friendly owners serve up plenty of wines worth adoring. Every afternoon, they open four or so different bottles, each accompanied by a story about the owners or the varietal. Chinitas has an emphasis in organic, local fare with a soft spot for boutique wineries. While trying all four daily varietals (plus an extra one on the house), the owner called up Nat — the empanada eatery across the street — and ordered us some flakey stuffed pastries. I’d recommend heading over there after your tasting; the empanada spot is next to Hopfen, a beer shop serving local brews. After spending a few hours at Chinitas, we grabbed some empanadas and beer for the road.

BRÖD

I could spend hours relaxing on this cafe’s white-washed patio. We went for the fresh ambiance and stayed for the tasty coffee, hearty brunch dishes, and delicious homemade bread. 

Restaurante 1884

We had high hopes for this restaurant owned by acclaimed Argentine chef Francis Mallmann, and the food didn’t disappoint. Mallmann’s known for his propensity toward flamed food, so we opted for mains (and dessert) off the parrilla. Our two starters, particularly the octopus, were fresh and surprising. To toast, we chose a bottle of Cabernet Franc from El Enemigo, as recommended by Chinitas.

El Enemigo

The day after feasting on flame-grilled goodness, we headed out to Maipú for some wine tasting. We’d intended to stop by a few different wineries but had a delightfully “Hotel California” experience at El Enemigo. Our warm, enthusiastic server explained that El Enemigo is all about the sensory enjoyment of wine tasting — so leave your snobby “inner enemy” at the door. Unpretentious and refreshing, this winery sets itself apart by evading oak (wine rests in fourth-use barrels). Instead, the focus is on the soil and, most importantly, the fruits of the labor. Lush, fruit-forward wines fill this producer’s cellar. A tour, modeled after Dante’s Divine Comedy, guides guests through irreverent art-filled passageways, all the way to the “paradise” of the tasting room.

We lounged over lunch for nearly four hours, as our server continually dropped by with new wines to taste. In all, I think we fit in about seven varietals. I fell so in love with the place that I asked about seasonal volunteer opportunities (and was given an email address to send my CV). Eventually, reluctantly, we tore ourselves away from this place where, presumably, I’d be OK if it were where “you can never leave.”

Cordón del Plata

And then it was time to go from feast to four days in the woods. After renting a car in Mendoza, we drove the meandering two hours out to Vallecitos Parque Natural. This small subdivision of the high Andes ascends from rolling hills to slick glaciers, all along a steep and well-kept trail. We chose this trek for its altitude; Connor wanted an alpine zone to acclimatize before hiking Aconcagua, the highest peak in the Americas.

The trail begins at 9,700 feet — already high enough for me to feel woozy and breathless from the outset. We camped one night near the trailhead (raucous family just beyond) then headed up to my personal peak of 14,500 feet. After a night of dull headaches and fitful sleep, we climbed a bit further and I finally adjusted to the altitude. Connor took a day hike up to the summit while I read and relished the bright, expansive space.

Chau, Argentina

Our time in and around Mendoza marked the end of our trip together through Chile and Argentina. (Connor stayed for Aconcagua, and I headed back to Valparaíso to work on a permaculture farm outside of town.) It was also my final stop in Argentina after moving there nearly three years ago.

As I waited for my bus in Mendoza, Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” burst through the speakers. The last I recall hearing this song was the day I left for Buenos Aires. Is that possible? Is this my big-life-change anthem? Am I so cheesy to believe the universe would deign to conspire such a thing?

¿Cómo que no?