Coq Au Vin

Our final vineyard visit before leaving Ronda this morning was at a bodega called Schatz. If that doesn't sound very Spanish it's because the winemaker is German. He's been making wines in Ronda since 1982 using mostly local grape varietals and one he brought from Germany (apparently of Russian origin).

The vineyard is biodynamic, which means it is organic plus (there's a little bit of black magic and mysticism thrown in). It is approached up a dirt track that you think will never end. At the top of the hill you turn in through gates to a drive lined with laden orange trees and palms. A garden of herbs stretches off into the shade of mature pine trees that predate their owner. The restored hacienda reflects a blinding white in the blazing morning sun.

Walk out into the sunshine and you survey the vines themselves on the south-facing slope, protective hills rising up on either side. The view is stunning. Ronda itself, perched atop its gorge, shimmers in the distant sunlight. Black solar panels in the field provide all the electricity to run the house and the wine shed.

Friedrich Schatz came here when he was eighteen, determined to continue the family tradition of winemaking, but in warmer climes. A tall, gentle man, walking slowly because of a bad back (I sympathize), he talks with passion about his wine as he takes us on a walk around his property. We are accompanied by a gaggle of hens and a smoky grey cat. One of the hens follows us into the tasting room and shits on the floor. Friedrich laughs. "Another mess to clean up," he says.

We tasted from the bottle and the barrel, and piled yet more wine into the boot of the car. He doesn't take credit cards, he tells us - the phone line is not reliable enough. I have no cheque book or cash. He shrugs. "Transfer the money to my bank when you can," he says.

We head off down the dusty track with bottles chinking, and know we'll be back. What a lovely man, and what great wines.