Burgmann Olivia 2022: the Tacoronte Listán Blanco that just won't leave

Holidays in Lanzarote. Heat, salt in the air, that wind that never lets up, and whole days split between the pool and the shade. Somewhere between the suncream and the flip-flops, a bottle from Tenerife was handed to me right there in Lanzarote: the Olivia 2022 from Burgmann. It was the second wine of the holiday.

We opened it at home, once the evening had cooled off, with a rice dish on the table. First glass: what a wine. Good grief.

A white named after a little girl, in red wine country

Tacoronte-Acentejo, in the north of Tenerife, became the first appellation in the Canaries back in 1992, and it’s Listán Negro territory. White wine tends to be the little brother round here. Which is exactly what makes Olivia fun.

Behind it is Winery Burgmann, a tiny outfit in Tacoronte at 400 metres, with vineyard and cellar on the same estate. The project kicked off in 2016 with the purchase of the first plot, and running the show is Marc Rochefort, a Canadian who was an aircraft maintenance engineer until Canarian wine changed his plans. Three hectares, vines aged from 20 to well over 100 years, and around 6,000 bottles a year. Not a lot, and of that not-a-lot, the white is the smallest slice.

The name has a story: Olivia is Rochefort’s daughter, born right in the middle of harvest. I suspect sleep was in short supply in that house that year.

The winemaking, as the winery tells it, goes against everything you’d expect from a fresh, salty Canarian white. They pick the Listán Blanco very ripe, give it a cold soak on its skins, ferment it in open French oak barrels and then leave it around eight months on its lees, stirring them every fortnight. Unfiltered, in a numbered edition. A recipe for a white with real substance, built to last.

Tasting: dry leaves after the rain

The colour gives the game away first: a deep gold, almost runny honey, nothing like this year’s white. All that ripeness and that spell on the skins show up before you’ve even had a sniff.

On the nose it’s dry leaves after rain. That smell when you step outside after an autumn downpour and the pavement is carpeted in leaves. Then almonds, white flowers… a scent that won’t let go, the kind that keeps your nose in the glass for a good while before you dare take a sip.

In the mouth, peach and loquat (yes, loquat, the one off your nan’s tree in the back garden), plus some faintly oxidative notes that give it serious depth. That almond and that oxidative edge aren’t a fluke: the open barrels and the months on lees are doing their job. And let’s not forget that Listán Blanco is the very same grape they call Palomino in Jerez, where it makes fino sherry. The family resemblance comes through all on its own.

The surprise is that, for all that, it isn’t heavy. The acidity is spot on, just enough to make it dangerously drinkable despite all the complexity. And the finish is out of this world: honestly, an hour later we could still taste it. After the rice, after the long chat at the table, and even after ice cream for pudding, which takes some nerve. The ice cream lost.

It’s a hugely complex wine, but not one that overwhelms you. Everything is stitched together with real elegance, each piece in its place, nothing squabbling with anything else.

What to drink it with?

With a rice dish, like we did: it’s a cracking match. There’s plenty of body for food with some heft and just enough acidity to keep you coming back. The winery also suggests fish, cheese, cured ham and even meat, and I can see why: this white holds its own at the table like few others.

A word of advice: don’t serve it ice-cold. At around 10 to 12 degrees the leaves and the almond open up; any colder and you’ll miss them. And if you’ve got patience to spare, the winery reckons it’ll keep going until 2035.

If you fancy a comparison, Lorelay’s Toto is another Tenerife Listán Blanco that spends time on its skins, but as an orange wine and from the other side of the island. Same grape, two roads that couldn’t look less alike.

A beautiful wine. Not even the ice cream could beat it.